From Summer To Spring
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: '365 Days of Drabbles Challenge' Collection. Related or unrelated entries. Pairings belonging to all categories. WARNING: Triggers, slash/femmslash, incest, M-content, general wtf-ness and no warnings at the beginning of chapters. Read at your own risk.
1. January - Day 1 - New

**Day One – "New"**

* * *

><p>They were huge – like tree-trunks or small houses or even <em>trolls<em>. Some of them certainly looked as if they fit the last category, though Albus immediately felt bad for thinking such…well, _mean_ things. He certainly couldn't talk, when he probably looked like all the other snivelling firsties with their shiny shoes and brand-new uniforms.

He glanced at the upper-years, quickly looking down and berating himself for such a stupid, _timid_ move. They were whispering behind their hands to each other, some blatantly staring as they spoke quite loudly to their friends. His cheeks bled red, eyes locked on his empty plate as he tried to control the mortification thrashing in his chest. He didn't dare look over to the other tables either, knowing he would meet James' smug smile and Rose's accusing eyes.

He squared himself just as a thin pale hand reached into his peripheral vision, grabbing a gravy-boat that sat somewhat between them. He looked at the other boy – a first year, like him – on impulse, heart thumping loudly in fright when he saw he was being watched in return. Albus thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place him – probably his height, with slicked white-blonde hair and a pointy chin. He had blue eyes…really blue eyes.

"Trolls, the lot of them," he said quietly, voice lilting snobbishly.

Albus smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Day OneEnd**


	2. January - Day 2 - Glory

**Day Two – "Glory"**

* * *

><p>"Why do you think he did it?" came the whisper, warm breath washing over his cheek and tickling his nose. They lay on the same mattress, Albus studying the enchanted ceiling and Scorpius on his side, watching him intently through the darkness.<p>

Albus sighed, eyes sliding shut as he thought. "You _know_," he muttered. "You were told the stories."

"I'm not talking about stories," Scorpius argued, voice hushed as to not disturb the others. "You know they're always warped after every telling. Things are added or left out – it's not as if my father or grandparents really knew the gist of it, anyway."

"Why do you want to know all of a sudden, anyway?" Albus demanded, acutely uncomfortable with the topic at hand. He wasn't exactly proud of either of his namesakes, but the second always brought up feelings he would rather not experience.

Scorpius seemed a bit surprised at his outburst, expression falling and mouth tightening. He didn't give up, however. "All the stories…they always have that one thing in common…but you've still got to wonder. Why did he do it, Al?"

He breathed out noisily, mouth twisting grimly. "Well it certainly wasn't for the glory."

* * *

><p><strong>Day TwoEnd**


	3. January - Day 3 - Snow

**Day Three – "Snow"**

* * *

><p>They were fourteen when the letter came. Two days later they were Portkeyed to Wilshire for the funeral.<p>

His parents [and family in general, really] hadn't wanted him to go – "You didn't know him like we did, Al!" – but he refused to be swayed by them. Scorpius was his best friend and he would pay his own respects. Mr. Malfoy [Lucius, that is] had been nothing but polite and civil to him during the time they knew each other, so he saw absolutely no reason not to repay that kindness.

The service was simple, but definitely tasteful. Family only, excluding him, with give or take thirty Europeans not even Scorpius' father seemed to know existed until they arrived unannounced. Cousins, aunts and uncles and even brothers and sisters, to Albus' shock. Scorpius had muttered something about his father sending a letter to his estranged grandmother, but no-one had expected her to show up – it was no secret, even to him, that Lucius had no relationship with his mother – much less uproot the entire extended-family.

It had been a humbling experience, to see so many people, strangers almost, genuinely sorry for one of their own's death – no matter how estranged or non-existent the relationship was. No matter what kind of person they were.

Albus slipped his hand into Scorpius cold, shaking one and squeezed, the gesture hidden by their trailing robe-sleeves. "Maybe it'll snow," he offered quietly, glancing up at the frozen sky.

"Maybe," Scorpius whispered, squeezing back.

* * *

><p><strong>Day ThreeEnd**


	4. January - Day 4 - Heart

**Day Four – "Heart"**

* * *

><p><em>"I have trouble with my heart, sometimes. Was born with it, Mum says. I'm fine, so don't look at me like that. We just have to watch it and if something seems off, report it immediately."<em>

Albus gripped his hand tightly, breath seeming to stick to his throat as he willed himself not to break down. He was still trembling, eyes burning as he blinked away tears and tried to see through the blurriness. Scorpius looked so pale…weak; body limp and limbs heavy. His chest barely rustled the duvet as he breathed in and out, but it was a vast improvement from when he first came in.

Madam Hitch came around to do another check, muttering to herself and making notes. She gave him a pitying sort of look and ghosted to the next bed. Albus ignored her for the most part, uncurling his stiff fingers from Scorpius' hand and pressing them to his wrist. He had to count for himself, to _feel_ the changes. After the scare of his life that night, he would probably be checking his pulse on and off for the next few weeks lest something happen right under his nose – _again_.

He didn't know how many times it had been said that night, not even by him, either, but he knew it was the absolute truth. If he hadn't crept into Scorpius' bed, too scared to even contemplate how childish he was being, all because of a silly nightmare…

If he hadn't lain his head against Scorpius' back, nodding off to the warmth that emanated from him and his muffled, steady heart-beat…

If he hadn't woken immediately at the slow, muted change of beat, hadn't noticed how his cheek was wet and sticky from the soaked night-shirt, Scorpius would undoubtedly be at St. Mungo's, fighting for his life, or worse.

The doors to the Infirmary swung open, hurried footsteps following, but he didn't move. As embarrassing as it was to be seen hovering over his best friend like an over-protective mother, he couldn't bring himself to scoot even an inch away.

Scorpius' heart was worth much more than his pride.

* * *

><p><strong>Day FourEnd**


	5. January - Day 5 - Starlight

**Day Five – "Starlight"**

* * *

><p>It was dark, starlight filtering weakly into the Infirmary between flickering candles. Madam Hitch had retired for the evening, confident her patients would make it through the night just fine.<p>

Scorpius lay awake, eyes half-mast and head tilted to the side so he could see the entrance fully. It was probably passed midnight already, but he didn't want to sleep. He felt vulnerable, used to the soft chattering of the portraits outside his bedroom – standing guard – and the swathing darkness of the Dungeons. He twitched at every flicker of the shadows, held his breath at every groan of the castle.

An hour later, when the doors creaked open, he was drifting. He jerked back to full consciousness, throat drying up and heart thumping wildly – _that_ couldn't be good. He relaxed, however, when he heard the familiar, though disembodied voice of his best friend.

"Scorpius?"

"You scared me, you idiot!" he whispered back, voice cracking slightly.

"Sorry," Albus said, shaking off his brother's Invisibility Cloak. He was closer than Scorpius originally thought, standing at the end of his bed. He looked a bit lost, school-robes thrown over his pyjamas and hair mussed. After a silent moment he approached, kicking the cloak under the bed and fingering the edge of the duvet. "I…had a nightmare…"

Scorpius shuffled over wordlessly, heart skipping a beat for a completely different reason as Albus crawled in beside him. There was a brief, awkward moment where they didn't know what way to face and if touching was okay, ending up as they usually did with Scorpius on his back and Albus curled into his side, the smallest of distances between them. Slowly, breaths deepening, they relaxed. Scorpius said nothing as unruly hair was tucked under his chin.

They were asleep within minutes.

* * *

><p><strong>Day FiveEnd**


	6. January - Day 6 - Uncertainty

**Day Six – "Uncertainty" **

* * *

><p>"They're going to hate me," Albus muttered, sliding down in his seat as the train slid to a rolling stop. His stomach felt like lead, heart thumping erratically in his chest.<p>

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Scorpius said simply, ignoring the hypocrisy of his words. He gathered up the things he had put into his school-bag for entertainment and checked his hair in the window reflection before dusting off his robes and sliding open the compartment door. "Coming?" he asked importantly, half in and half out.

"Scorpius," Albus whispered, eyes trained on his hands as he pulled at his jumper anxiously. "Scorpius, I can't do this…"

There must have been something in his voice, maybe even his expression, _something_ that conveyed how serious the situation at hand was, for Scorpius seemed to deflate. He sighed, air leaving his lungs in a big gust of wind. Glancing off to the side, hair falling to shadow his eyes, he said softly, "You're my best friend, Al. You'll have to see them at some point – and anyway, you've already met."

"But that doesn't count! Back then they didn't care about me, they were too focused on whether or not you were going to be alright! Now, when you're perfectly healthy, there's nothing to stand in the way of them seeing – well, _me_."

Scorpius frowned, glancing back at him for a long moment before sliding the door shut and sitting down across from him again. "What is this _really_ about, Albus? Are you afraid they won't – what, _approve_ of you? That their opinion of you will stop us from being friends?"

"Well…duh!" Albus exclaimed, staring at him incredulously. "What else would it be?!"

"I don't know!" Scorpius said irritably, blowing his hair from his face. "I thought you might have just been shy – as you usually are!"

"…that too…but mostly the other one…"

"_Albus_," he rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. "We're best mates! Sure, I'll admit it would make things a bit difficult if they didn't like you, but I wouldn't abandon you because of that!"

"…really?" Albus whispered, face bright red. He was mortified – he sounded so pathetic! – but he couldn't help it or his feelings. He had never been someone's best friend before and he knew how much Scorpius looked up to his parents…

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation. I promise, whatever happens, we won't stop being friends for such a silly reason."

He waited until Albus smiled weakly at him to continue, standing again and glancing at the door. "We shouldn't keep them waiting. Are you okay now? Or should we call it off for now?"

"No…no, I'm alright now. I mean…it's just meeting your parents…"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. It seemed he still had a little work to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Day SixEnd**


	7. January - Day 7 - Breakfast

**Day Seven – "Breakfast"**

* * *

><p>"You disappoint me, Moony," Sirius said quietly, expression drawn and eyes like flint.<p>

The Order froze as his voice carried across the table, all in various states of movement. Harry slowly set his fork down, watching his godfather with wide eyes. Hermione turned back to her book after a moment, Ron slowly reaching out to nick another waffle when it was apparent everyone was focused on the forthcoming – thing. Row, perhaps. Maybe a mental breakdown? Entirely possible.

"…Padfoot?" Remus asked, dread twisting in his gut. "What's wrong, Pads? What are you talking about?"

"You _know_," was the ominous response, followed quickly by the screeching of Sirius' chair as he flung himself back and onto his feet. "Don't you act dumb, Remus! Who put you up to it?! Huh?! Who was it? Molly?! Snivellus?! _Harry_?" Sirius paused, eyes widening as a gasp left his lips. "Or maybe you did it on your own accord! You TRAITOR!"

"Sirius! Calm down! What are you—!"

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY SMILEY-FACE PANCAKES?!"

There was a beat of silence.

"…right next to your juice."

Another beat.

"Oh." He blinked slowly, glancing at the table.

Then, abruptly, as if nothing was amiss, he grabbed his chair and practically jumped onto it, seemingly not noticing when it creaked worryingly. "_Ooh_, blueberries! Thanks, Moony, you're the best!"

* * *

><p><strong>Day SevenEnd**


	8. January - Day 8 - Achievement

**Day Eight – "Achievement" **

* * *

><p>"Malfoy," Harry muttered, coming to stand beside his fellow trainee. He crossed his arms uncomfortably, shoulders hunching. Malfoy said nothing, glancing at him from the corner of his eye and nodding sharply in greeting.<p>

"Alright, everyone listen up! You have exactly five hours to complete the examination – as this is the practical, and it still counts for a good chunk of your grade, even if you did well on the written, ya'll still have a chance to be kicked back to boot-camp! Rules! Well…there are none. But! If me or any of the other examiners find ya'll trying to sabotage anyone else's exam, ya'll not only be kicked out of the course, ya'll not have a future in Law Enforcement! Ya hear?!"

"Yessir!"

"You have until the bell rings to discuss your 'case' with your assigned partner. Good luck to ya'll!"

As soon as Kage stepped down, the room erupted in a buzz of chatter. Harry turned reluctantly to face his 'partner', somewhat irritated when he was met with Malfoy's cool stare. The cold expression set him right on edge, only adding to his original annoyance. They had been paired up before in practical lessons, mostly because the bastards they were forced to work under wanted to see the Boy-Who-Lived and Daddy's Little Death Eater duel it out, or perhaps the other way around, and it never failed to ruffle his feathers.

But Malfoy didn't care.

And that's what angered him the most.

"What's the case? Anything good?" he asked gruffly, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand. No matter what, he couldn't fail this exam – and neither could Malfoy. If he flunked, it would be like all his hard work being flushed down the toilet. If Malfoy flunked…it would be the end of his career, way before it even started. There were no second chances for him.

"A robbery, with a possible kidnapping and attempted murder," Malfoy said simply, holding out the file for him to look over. "Muggles may or may not have seen something."

"Bloody hell, who comes up with this shit," Harry muttered, eyebrows slowly hiking up his forehead as he skimmed over the case summary. It was like a terrible Auror-adventure book.

Malfoy offered no response, though he didn't expect one.

The bell rang, loud and shrill, and they barely had time to share a look before they were rushing from the training hall, the others following like a tsunami. They already knew they would be using brooms as transportation – they couldn't Apparate out of the building – and if they had learned anything since signing up for the course two years before, it was that there was only one good broom in the storage-closet and if they didn't get there in a _very_ timely manner, they would be stuck with a floating twig.

They got there first, but that didn't help when they both reached for the sub-par Nimbus 2003. There was a very tense moment, one in which Harry saw something other than cool indifference in Malfoy's expression, though it was broken by the others reaching the closet.

"Let's just share," Malfoy muttered, voice low enough that Harry could barely hear, never-mind anyone else. "We have to fly to Liverpool, anyway, and I don't know how to get there by sky. Do you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied after a moment of merely staring, eyes wide behind his glasses. Was he…dreaming? [_Why_ he would dream of such a ridiculous thing escaped him at that moment, however.]

"Then let's go," was the impatient response. Malfoy strode from the closet, ignoring their classmates and assumingly heading for the roof. Harry followed after a moment, broom in tow. He arrived a few seconds or so behind, just in time to see Malfoy shrinking the file and placing it in his robe breast-pocket. He made an impatient gesture and Harry rolled his eyes, deliberately slowing down.

Malfoy didn't look impressed.

"It'll take twenty-to-thirty minutes to get there," Harry said, mostly for something to say. He mounted the broom somewhat awkwardly, shoulders hunching automatically when Malfoy stepped closer. If he noticed, he said nothing.

It was as he was climbing on behind him that Harry realised something – something possibly detrimental to their cause. "Do you – want to steer?" he blurted out, unwillingly thinking back to the one and only other time they had flown together – or fled, really.

"Just fly, Potter," Malfoy snarled, surprising him. Annoyance and anger immediately welled up within him – here he was, trying to be fucking considerate! – though it was snuffed out when a thin arm wrapped around his waist – much tighter than absolutely necessary.

Harry pushed off the ground, pitching them into the grey sky.

If he heard a choked gasp, if he felt Malfoy cling to him, all angles and ruby Novice robes, he pretended not to notice.

* * *

><p>They finished in a record-breaking hour and forty minutes – and though they didn't know it yet, with a near perfect score.<p>

But that wasn't their only achievement that day.

* * *

><p><strong>Day EightEnd**


	9. January - Day 9 - Obsession

**Day Nine – "Obsession"**

* * *

><p>Sirius quickly turned off his alarm before Remus woke up too, yawning and quite literally rolling out of bed. He got up and went to shower, returning from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, all dressed and ready for work. He checked that his boyfriend was still sleeping before merrily making his way to the kitchen, opening curtains and windows as he went, letting the dull morning light into their flat.<p>

He opened the fridge and dug around for a bit before deciding on what he wanted to make that morning. He whistled as he worked, slipping into his routine easily. He put the Wireless on as an afterthought as he plated up some bacon, idly listening, though his attention drifted away immediately when he heard Remus stumbling in from the bedroom.

"Morning, Moony!" he greeted cheerily, not at all perturbed by the bone-rattling groan that emanated from his old friend and partner.

"_Again_, Sirius?" Remus asked, staring at the admittedly large selection for breakfast in disbelief. "Are you _trying_ to make me fat?"

"Not at all," Sirius protested, finishing up with the pancakes and charming the dishes to clean themselves so he could sit at the table and eat. He picked up the jug of juice off the counter and poured them each a glass, leaning down to peck Remus' cheek as he walked around his chair.

"But on a completely unrelated note, have you noticed yourself gaining any weight recently?" he asked innocently.

"Oh yes, _completely_ unrelated," Remus raised an eyebrow, though the effect was ruined by his food-stuffed squirrel cheeks. Bacon, if Sirius wasn't mistaken. He always did crave it more nearing the Full Moon.

Sirius merely smiled, not wanting to ask again and seem suspicious. Or for Remus to think he was trying to subtly tell him he was indeed getting fat, and risk offending him. He made sure Remus ate plenty instead, peaking at his belly as often as he could. He couldn't be sure just yet, but it did look like all his hard work was paying off – Remus seemed to be filling out. Though he was naturally lean and tall, he went through phases where he could be considered underweight and it just wouldn't do for him to become so unhealthy – Sirius had plans and he wouldn't allow Remus to ruin them!

Soon it was time to leave and after having a quick grope and snog, Sirius made his way out of the flat to Apparate in a side-alley. He paused there, taking out a pocket-calendar and making a tick.

Only two more weeks to go and then he could put Operation: Baby into motion.

* * *

><p><strong>Day NineEnd**


	10. January - Day 10 - Flutter

**Day Ten – "Flutter"**

* * *

><p>Harry didn't know what it was, but ever since he had gotten in that morning, he hadn't been to tear his eyes away. It was like he was being compelled to look and <em>look<em>, eyes practically drinking in the sight.

What the bloody fuck was wrong with him?! Had he taken the expired Pepper-Up by mistake again?

Malfoy shuffled some documents, using a quick charm to shove them neatly to the corner of his desk so he could grab the next file and start working immediately. After a moment or so, he looked up.

_He knows!_ Harry thought instantaneously, before all thought processes shut down completely. He must have looked like a complete idiot, eyes wide and mouth parted, cheeks most likely an unattractive ruddy-red, but Malfoy said nothing and merely went back to his work.

Harry wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he _swore_ at the last possible moment he saw Malfoy's lips quirk up into a tiny smile.

His heart didn't skip a beat. It fluttered.

Fuck his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Day TenEnd**


	11. January - Day 11 - Breeze

**Day Eleven – "Breeze"**

* * *

><p>Harry blinked blearily, groaning softly when he recognised what had woken him. The sun was practically scorching the bare skin along his shoulders and back, sweat beading and gathering at the base of his spine. It was more than a little uncomfortable – he was surprised he had lasted that long before giving in to the heat. According to the fancy clock on the wall, it was nearing ten.<p>

He started to get up, but immediately faltered and flopped back down like jelly.

Oh, that was right. He was all fucked out. Scratch that last part – he _wasn't_ surprised he had lasted so long. When you felt as boneless and pleasurably achy as he did, you just wanted to lie down and sleep forever, surface-of-the-sun heat or no.

Harry allowed himself another minute or so of resting before trying again, groaning as his head spun. He rubbed his forehead and slowly got to his feet, stumbling towards the balcony where all the light was sneaking in from. The door was closed for some obscure reason, but the drapes were wide open, happily not doing their job.

Annoyed, Harry unlocked the door and pushed it open, unhooking the first layer of the drapes – flimsy curtains – next. They were transparent and did little to darken the room, but he was awake now and only cared about the stifling heat. They were charmed to filter the sunlight, leaving the rays pleasantly warm instead of sweltering.

A smooth breeze snuck through, ruffling the curtains and brushing over his overheated skin. Feeling a bit better, Harry turned and went to get back into bed. He kicked the duvet away and re-joined his partner, ignoring his irritated mutterings and moving around until he was comfortable with their legs intertwined and his head resting over a steady heart-beat.

"Why did we come to France during the summer, again?" Harry asked, voice muffled and eyes drooping. Maybe he wasn't so awake, after all…

"Because you're an idiot," Lucius replied curtly, turning his head away from the sun. "And you wanted to go somewhere 'not bloody miserable and raining all the time' for our honeymoon."

"Ah," he said, lips quirking up into an idle smile. "I don't suppose you want to go swimming with me later, then? Since we've booked our own section, I'm sure they won't mind us…maybe going in nude? You know, if you think you can go out without bursting into flames."

"…Go to sleep. We'll leave in an hour."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

><p><strong>Day ElevenEnd**


	12. January - Day 12 - Unpopular

**Day Twelve – "Unpopular"**

* * *

><p>Scorpius Malfoy wasn't exactly a 'popular' boy, but that was okay. Albus wasn't either.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Day TwelveEnd**


	13. January - Day 13 - Ruined

**Day Thirteen – "Ruined"**

* * *

><p>Albus stared down at the shredded robes in his hands. Even with all the Mending charms he knew, they would never looked as they first did [and what a relief that was]. He glanced over to Scorpius who was apparently <em>fascinated<em> by his History of Magic homework.

He sighed, tossing the remains of the hideous outfit back into his trunk and flopping down on the bed beside his best friend; taking a bite of the Honeydukes' chocolate-bar Mrs. M had sent with her Valentine's package. At least this way he wouldn't have to dance with Rose.

* * *

><p><strong>Day ThirteenEnd**


	14. January - Day 14 - Heaven

**Day Fourteen – "Heaven"**

* * *

><p>"What do you think heaven is like?"<p>

Lucius paused, hands hovering over the silver buttons of his coal-black waist-coat. He continued after a short moment, slipping off the stiff piece of clothing and moving onto the cuffs of his shirt.

Harry watched him from his place sprawled out on their bed, chin propped up on his arms. "…well?" he asked.

"I don't believe in heaven, so I have no delusions to it," Lucius said simply, voice tight with reluctance.

Harry sat up, eyebrows arching upwards. "You don't believe in heaven? Why not?"

"Because then I would have to believe in hell."

Harry dropped the subject.

* * *

><p><strong>Day FourteenEnd**


	15. January - Day 15 - Competition

**Day Fifteen – "Competition" **

* * *

><p>"Please explain to me how we ended up at a muggle – what is this, even? A karaoke-bar?"<p>

"Oh, don't be such a spoil-sport!" Sirius cried, swinging his hips wildly to the off-tune singing of the leggy girl on stage. "They have a competition, see! It's gonna start in five minutes and I signed us all up!"

"Kill. Me. Now."

Remus gave him a pitying look. "We're already dead, Severus."

"I CALL 'STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN'!" James yelled, hurrying to the list pinned up on the wall.

Severus turned to give Lily a wounded look. "You just _had_ to introduce him to muggle music."

"Hey Snivellus, they have U.G.L.Y!"

"SIRIUS, IF YOU CAN'T BE NICE, YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY—!"

"I knew you were shagging!" James cried.

"—…of my Cadbury's Easter collection…"

"…oh. Well. This is awkward."

* * *

><p><strong>Day FifteenEnd**


	16. January - Day 16 - Song

**Day Sixteen – "Song" **

"—I'm a bittTCH, I'm a LUH-_VER_, I'm a _chiiiilld_, I'm a mOTHer~!"

"…I can't believe you have sex with _that_."

"We're _not_ shagging!"

"—I'm a sin-_NER_, I'm a _saaiint_, I do not feel afraid—!"

"Uh-huh. Not shagging."

"…"

"…"

"So take me as I ammm, this may mean you'll have to be a STTROONNGER _man_!"

"You're the top?" Severus whistled. "Sirius Black likes it up the arse, well I never…"

"We're NOT together!"

"Right."

"…"

"…"

"I'm a BIIITCCHH, I'm a teeaaseeee~!"

"Well, he got the first part right. Lupin's bitch."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MY WIFE IS SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!"

"Don't mind me, darling! I'm enjoying the show as much as everyone else!"

"I'M A GODDESS ON MY KNEES~!"

"Oh, ho, ho, I'm sure he is…"

"**ALBUS**!"

* * *

><p><strong>Day SixteenEnd**

* * *

><p>Song is "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks. I don't own.<p> 


	17. January - Day 17 - Thief

**Day Seventeen – "Thief" **

* * *

><p>"<em>Honestly<em>!" Scorpius hissed. "It's a wonder you've not been prosecuted yet!"

"For what?" Albus laughed, letting himself be dragged along behind his boyfriend. He sucked in a deep breath as he was suddenly shoved into a wall, the grin not leaving his face even as his cheeks bled red; heart stuttering as his body was pinned to the stones by another, taller one.

"For being a complete and utter _flirt_!" Scorpius puffed against his cheek, scowling fiercely.

"Is that a crime now?" he asked, tilting his chin to the side, hoping Scorpius would get the hint.

"_Oh yes_," was the ominous response, right before smooth, warm lips were dragged over his jugular.

"You'd vouch for me, though, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, but that would be lying," Scorpius said against his neck, a smirk curling at his lips. A deft hand slid in-between them, popping the first and second button of his shirt out of their holes so he could move onto his collarbone.

"You bastard!" Albus laughed in surprise, shoving him back for a second and then hooking his arms around his neck to reel him back in. "I'd do it for you," he whispered against his partner's mouth.

"Me? What have I done?" Scorpius asked, amused.

"You've stolen my heart!" Albus exclaimed in all seriousness, waiting a full five seconds before bursting out laughing at the horrified expression he was presented with.

"You daft git!" Scorpius muttered, burying his face in his neck to hide a smile of his own.

* * *

><p><strong>Day SeventeenEnd**

**Also written for Round 1 of the Amateur Divination Game Challenge! **


	18. January - Day 18 - Home

**Day Eighteen – "Home"**

* * *

><p>She remembered wondering, absently, if he had ever known such a thing. When a house was a home.<p>

She remembered the look in his eyes, when he turned to find them standing in the doorway, horrified. She remembered how much he resembled his father, how alike they looked when they had been caught doing something – wrong.

He had fled, leaving them with the corpse of their son.

Thomas had arranged the funeral, leaving her to grieve, she was sure. She remembered being numb, so afraid and yet – not. She remembered waking in the middle of the night, terrified he might come back to kill them too. She remembered time passing, and the ache that had settled in her chest since her son's untimely death diminishing little by little every day. She remembered thinking he had done something to her – something she couldn't explain, something she didn't _want_ to explain.

She remembered asking her husband one last thing, as she lay on her death-bed.

_Give him a home._

* * *

><p>He remembered wondering, absently, if he had ever known such a thing. When a house was a home.<p>

He remembered the look on his face, when he turned his head to find them in the doorway, frozen in fear. He remembered how much he resembled Tom, how alike they looked even as one lay dead on the floor, the other hooded with shadows in his eyes.

The boy had fled, leaving them with the corpse of their son – _his_ father.

He had arranged the funeral, numb. He remembered thinking he would come back, to either kill them too or make sure they wouldn't talk. What would he say however? That a young boy had murdered his only son – with a twig, for that matter? He remembered waking in the middle of the night, his wife sobbing into her nightgown. He remembered time passing, his old body breaking down a little more each day. He remembered thinking of things – _strange_ things that would have the Church knocking down their front door.

He remembered Mary asking one last thing, as she lay on her death-bed, dazed and in pain.

_Give him a home. _

The papers were drawn up, the house and their wealth officially being passed down, but it was too late.

He didn't call himself Tom Riddle anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Day EighteenEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Back From The Dead Challenge - Thomas and Mary Riddle<strong>


	19. January - Day 19 - Victory

**Day Nineteen – "Victory"**

* * *

><p>"Slytherin won," Albus informed his best friend, an uncharacteristically smug smile tugging at his mouth.<p>

Scorpius slowly looked up at him, then sighed and pushed his chair out to stand. He raised an eyebrow in a show of mock-irritation and leaned in derisively slow, curling a hand in his hair and waiting until they were practically sharing the same breath before gently pressing their lips together.

Albus looked like a right tomato by the end, though a _pleased_ one. He nicked Scorpius' forgotten quill from the library-table and drew a thick vertical line over his index finger.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure I don't lose count," Albus said airily, dropping the quill and smiling a bit awkwardly, if not sweetly. "This is the twenty-second time Slytherin has won since we started the bet…"

"You count how many kisses we've had?" Scorpius asked, amused, though he could feel heat seeping into his own cheeks.

"It's for the bet!" Albus argued, scowling embarrassedly, before pecking him on the cheek and quickly leaving to 'go rub it in James' face'.

Scorpius shook his head, sitting back down and returning to his books, though he only had half a mind for it then. It was a wonder how Albus knew their House would win – he wasn't even on the team.

* * *

><p><strong>Day NineteenEnd**


	20. January - Day 20 - Library

**Day Twenty – "Library"**

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed irritably, stretching her foot out and promptly kicking Harry in the shin.<p>

"Ow!" He hissed, head snapping to look at her. He leaned down to rub the injury, frowning at her. "What was that for?"

"We're meant to be studying!" She said exasperatedly. "You can make cow eyes at your boyfriend later!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Harry muttered, cheeks flushing red. Quickly looking over his shoulder again, he shot her a glare when it was apparent no-one was paying attention to them. "And don't say that so loud!"

"No-one heard me," Hermione rolled her eyes, huffing. She had a look of her own anyway, cocking her head to the side as she peered over Harry's shoulder. His latest little obsession was the Hufflepuff Seeker, a boy in their year named Owen – Owen Cauldwell, she was vaguely sure. He was nice enough, definitely a team player, and he had a lovely smile, but other than that he seemed a little…well, dull. She frankly didn't see what Harry was so worked up about, the last few weeks. Other than his pale golden hair, of course.

He was also studying, quill brushing over his cheek as he read in a mutter, expression unusually thoughtful. When Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, he had resumed his little regime of pretending to read, then sneaking a glance and mooning for a few seconds before quickly shifting his eyes back to his blank homework.

Sighing, Hermione started to pack up her things, a fond smile on her lips. Whatever made him happy, she supposed. Whatever made him happy, she supposed. She just hoped he knew that Cauldwell's hair wasn't actually that pretty shade he was so stuck on – unlike someone else's…

* * *

><p>A week later, the experimental potion had worn off. Hermione wisely didn't comment when Harry suddenly lost interest in the naturally dark-haired boy.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Day TwentyEnd**

Some Hermione for FF! :)

**Also written for**:** 10 Characters, 10 Prompts Challenge!** [Character] Owen Cauldwell, [Prompt] Thoughtful


	21. January - Day 21 - Tower

**Day Twenty-One – "Tower"**

* * *

><p><em>The room was dark, but she recognised the Astronomy Tower easily enough. She sighed as soft lips trailed down her neck, gripping soft blond hair and slipping a hand beneath his robes, hand flat as she felt along his firm, flat stomach.<em>

_"You look lovely," he whispered, voice deeper than usual, especially without that ridiculous whine he so often tacked onto it. "Hermione…"_

_She didn't reply, merely enjoying the attention and his touch. There was something itching at the edge of her mind, however, a soft buzz that seemed to get louder and louder._

"Miss Hermione?"

_"Oh, say it like that," Hermione went pink, burying her face in Malfoy's neck, missing his vaguely-confused expression. _

"Miss Hermione? Miss Hermione?"

_Her eyebrows drew together, shoulders twitching. "No, that's annoying now. Do it low, like—"_

"Miss Hermione! Harry Potters being asking Dobby to deliver letter!"

_"Dobby?" she said, confused, just as Malfoy bubbled over, shrinking down and shrivelling into the familiar form of his ex-House Elf. "What—!"_

"Dobby?!" She screamed, bolting upright, scrambling away from the wide-eyed elf standing over her.

"Miss Hermione…she dreams of Dobby…" He whispered.

"N-NO! No! That wasn't—that wasn't—!"

"Oh, no, Miss Hermione," Dobby whispered unhappily. "This will not do. Dobby cannot returns your affections!"

Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. "I—I don't like you Dobby – I mean, I _like_ you, but not in _that_ way! Please, it was just a mis—!"

But Dobby only shook his head, smiling as if he knew better. Hermione had never felt so violated in her life.

"Dobby is a free elf, see. Dobby cannot tie himself down with commitment. Even to such a smart and lovely witch as Miss Hermione."

Hermione didn't know what to say, absolutely dumbfounded, so she merely nodded.

"You will find a nice wizard one day," Dobby declared, nodding insistently. "Not as nice as Dobby, no, not at all, but nice enough."

"E-er…t-thank you, Dobby…"

"Or maybe even a witch!" he added with a saucy wink, before tucking an envelope into her hands and popping away, muttering something about "and Masters Lucius thought Dobby could not get 'dem bitches…"

Hermione stared after him, eyes wide, before finding her wand and promptly Obliviating herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-OneEnd**

You said Hermione/Anyone o.o [slowly pulls duvet over my head, whimpering] idek

**10 Characters, 10 Prompts Challenge!** [Character] Dobby, [Prompt] Touch


	22. January - Day 22 - Pain

**Day Twenty-Two – "Pain"**

* * *

><p>They didn't talk much, even as mortal years passed. They didn't need to, you could say, though they didn't quite believe this themselves. Death brought clarity, yes, but that didn't mean all their problems had gone away. Much like when they were alive, they preferred to let the elephant roam as it pleased, stepping on their feet and crushing furniture as it went.<p>

It was Gellert, to both of their surprise, who finally broke the current decade-long silence.

It was a simple question, his tone smooth and politely attentive, as if he were merely asking about the weather. "Did it hurt?"

Albus didn't reply right away, fiddling idly with the hem of his bright blue robes, tracking his hands interestedly. They were big and strong, fine-fingered, not veiny and weathered – and decayed – as he had last remembered. He almost hadn't recognised himself when he first opened his eyes, startled by his own vibrant eyes and hair. It had been so long since he had looked, and most importantly _felt_ so young again.

Finally, quite aware of the sharp eyes trained on his person, he asked jovially, "What, old friend?"

Gellert snorted, turning his head to study the great blue sky. Stars glittered with the oncoming eve, though the day was far from over. Then, in a soft, wistful voice neither of them recognised:

"Death."

Albus looked up at him, eyes growing sad. A mordant sort of smile quirked up the corner of his mouth, though it was gone within seconds. "I have experienced far greater pains, Gellert."

"Yes," he agreed, watching a flower-petal float past on the wind. "I suppose you have."

Neither mentioned how perfectly their hands fit around one another.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-TwoEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Ship Til You Drop Competition!<strong> Round 1 - 9. Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald

Guest: Sure, if anyone wants to request a pairing, go ahead :) As you can see, I was able to do something with yours…


	23. January - Day 23 - Content

**Day Twenty-Three – "Content"**

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed, more amused than annoyed, even if she would have rather been the latter. She had work in – she glanced at the clock – less than an hour and she was running very behind on her morning schedule. It <em>might<em> have had something to do with the two leeches attached to her breasts, though it looked as if her alarm had finally died on her. Draco had been warning her for weeks that it was in need of replacing, though she hadn't really paid him any mind.

Smug git, he would probably ponce around all day now, knowing he was right.

Theo was the first to finally flop off her poor chest, rolling over and grumbling to himself about it being 'too early'. He lay like a starfish – despite not really having the space – for a good five minutes before seeming to wake up fully.

"Oh, hullo," he said, rolling back over to warm her left side again, burying his face in her neck. "You're going to be late."

"I'm quite aware," Hermione quipped, though there was no real heat to her voice.

"Would you two shut up?" Draco whined, voice muffled by the cotton of her pyjama-top. "You're disrupting my gorgeous dream-sleep-me time."

"…your what?" Theo and Hermione asked.

"The time when I don't have to hear you two yapping at the arse-crack of dawn!"

"It's eight—"

"_Eight_? Bloody hell, Vampires, the both of you. Now shush and let me sleep some more."

"But you have work—"

"_Shhh_," Draco whispered soothingly, before plonking his head back onto her shoulder. He was asleep within seconds.

"Well, as long as we're all going to be late anyway, might as well take a sick day," Theo said brightly, following the other's lead and burrowing into her side, more than happy to get some more shut-eye.

Hermione rolled her eyes. What a lovely start to her day. Still, she was content.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-ThreeEnd**

For FF :D Hope you like, lovely! I tried…siriusly ;-; Draco is…Draco.


	24. January - Day 24 - Picturesque

**Day Twenty-Four – "Picturesque"**

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think?" Harry asked, glancing up from the little leaflet the realtor had given him.<p>

"Er…it's very…quaint?" Draco offered after a long moment.

"You hate it."

"I wouldn't make my dog sleep there."

"Right, next house," Harry said, smiling a little when Draco pulled at the back of his jumper. He took his hand and squeezed gently, keeping his eyes up ahead. No need to tickle his skittish sensibilities by looking _too_ pleased at the PDA.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-FourEnd**


	25. January - Day 25 - Train

**Day Twenty-Five – "Train"**

* * *

><p>"Do you think he needs medical attention?"<p>

"Whoa, see those scars! Think he's a trouble-maker?"

"Must be muggle-born – look at the state of him! Goodness me, _my_ mother wouldn't dare let me step on the train looking so – so _shabby_!"

"Alright, move your arses!" Sirius Black yelled, effectively scaring the shit out of the younger Years teeming around his usual compartment. "Bloody fuck, you'd think they were giving away free sweets the way you're all swarming! Fuck off, the lot of you!"

Ignoring their shocked expressions, and the angry ones of the Prefects rushing towards him, Sirius pushed the remaining little urchins out of his way and slammed the compartment door on the noses of the swotty Sixth Years trying to tell him off.

"Honestly," he muttered to himself, slipping his wand from his sleeve and casting a quick locking charm – and a handy little Notice-Me-Not – before turning his attention to the boy slumped in the corner.

Expression softening, Sirius leaned down and lifted Remus from his seat, juggling him a bit before managing to sit down, the Werewolf cradled on his lap.

"I'm here now, Moony."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-FiveEnd**


	26. January - Day 26 - Curse

**Day Twenty-Six – "Curse"**

* * *

><p>Draco was <em>not<em> in a good mood.

"Stupid Nott, snoring like a bloody Hippogriff all night…"

He had gotten up early, as per usual, grumbling and more than a little grouchy as he dragged himself to the washroom. He dropped his toiletries on the counter by the sinks, glancing towards the mirror as he got out his dental health products. He looked back down, a short second passing before his eyes snapped back to his reflection.

His scream woke up the whole of Slytherin House.

No less than thirty seconds later Crabbe and Goyle burst into the bathroom, Zabini pushing passed them quickly, wand on hand and aiming for some kind of invisible assailant. But Draco was the only one in the bathroom.

"What—?"

"No, OUT! _Get out_!" Draco screeched when he saw them, hurling his toothbrush across the room as his left hand snapped up to cover the lower-half of his face. They nearly tripped over themselves leaving, staring angrily at the door when it slammed shut in their faces with a hissed Locking charm.

They heard Draco muttering to himself, bemoaning his fate, and they gave up, slouching back to their beds. It was way too early for his dramatics, anyway…

"I'm cursed," Draco whimpered to himself, inside the bathroom. His hands fluttered uselessly around his usually flawless face, eyes locked on the _huge_ [barely noticeable] spot on his chin. This_couldn't_ be happening!

What did Pansy normally do when she got spots? He couldn't remember! Was there a spell? Oh, Merlin, he hoped there was a spell! Just the _thought_ of touching it made his stomach turn. But how was he supposed to get the spell? He couldn't walk out looking like he did! Children would run in fear, the ghosts would die all over again!

_Potter. Would. Never. Let. Him. Live. It. Down!_

Draco sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing thickly. He emptied his toiletry bag onto the counter and grabbed his face-wash, glaring at it for letting him look even the slightest bit offensive. He set it aside for later and washed his hands, leaving the water running so he could make a quick escape, so to say. He tore off some loo-paper from one of the two stalls and stared resolutely into his reflection's eyes.

_Let's do this thing!_

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>My Boring Life Competition! <strong>Draco has to pop a zit [can I just say _eeeeewwwwwwww_]


	27. January - Day 27 - Wilderness

**Day Twenty-Seven – "Wilderness"**

* * *

><p>Scorpius resisted the urge to hop up and down, thighs squeezing together as he waited impatiently for the door to the temporary loo to open, finally giving him access. He had been waiting for Merlin-knew-how-long already, the sun slowly rising behind him.<p>

Albus had told him to just cast a Notice-Me-Not and go on the tree by their tent, but he had absolutely refused. He was sort of regretting that now, as he squirmed and bounced, trying to lessen the pressure on his ridiculously full bladder.

Gods, how long could one girl _take_?!

She was a tiny slip of a thing, barely a Fourth year if he had to take a guess. There wasn't even a mirror in there, so she couldn't have been getting ready for the day or anything similar! The toilet and tiny sink couldn't possibly have been that interesting, either!

A few minutes later, he heard someone stumble up behind him, muttering about it being too early. It was a Ravenclaw, though they didn't really know each other. Five minutes later, they shared a look of comradery. They would be waiting for a while yet.

Finally, _finally_ the door opened and the Fourth Year hopped out, looking as if she had just spent the night in the forest – and not in the way they were, on their CoMC trip. No, her hair was a mess, there were bruises all over neck and her clothes were buttoned wrong.

She walked by them without a care in the world, absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Not even a minute later one of the Gryffindors from his year stumbled out of the loo, wide-eyed and grinning dopily.

The Ravenclaw took one look at now-accessible bathroom and simply left. The smell hit Scorpius and he gagged a little, the musky, sweet scent overpowering him. He followed his silent friend's lead and hurried away.

He would frankly rather go piss in the bushes.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-SevenEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>My Boring Life Competition! <strong>Scorpius is waiting in line to use the bathroom


	28. January - Day 28 - Dagger

**Day Twenty-Eight – "Dagger"**

* * *

><p>"Do it, <em>please<em>," he begged breathlessly, eyes widening as another set of spasms overtook his body. He threw his head back and _howled_, spine snapping and stretching out as patchy fur erupted all over his hollowing chest. His fingers and toes _cracked_, the bones resetting as his nails hardened, growing into ragged claws.

His head twisted to the side, unwashed hair spreading out over sharp cheekbones and burrowing under the skin, sprouting over a quickly-forming muzzle. Wide yellow eyes snapped to Abraxas', looking at him for less than two seconds before the Werewolf lunged.

Abraxas plunged the pure silver dagger into his brother's heart.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-Eight End**


	29. January - Day 29 - Perfume

**Day Twenty-Nine – "Perfume"**

* * *

><p>Remus wrinkled his nose, brow furrowing. "What is that smell?"<p>

Sirius stiffened beside him, not-so-subtly scooting away. But Remus had already gotten a good whiff.

"Are you wearing…perfume?"

"No!" Sirius scoffed, even as his face went bright red, eyes darting from side to side questionably.

"…Sirius—"

"It was Lily!" he burst out, whining and crossing his arms defiantly. "She wanted me to test out her new perfume, okay?"

"…I'm not even going to ask."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Twenty-NineEnd**


	30. January - Day 30 - Knockturn Alley

**Day Thirty – "Knockturn Alley"**

* * *

><p>Harry had that particular dream often, mixed in with all of his other ones, but this time…this time it was different. <em>Very<em> different.

He was himself, aged twenty-seven, for one…and very much happy to be where he was.

It was a grim day in the Alley, questionable characters and vermin scuttling along the streets, doing business and looking for prey.

He waited in the grimy, thin space between two buildings, leaning up against the wall with a cigarette dangling from his gloved fingers. He could picture his own expression – closed off, dull, even though he was screaming and restless on the inside. His skin itched, his eyes feeling too wide; dry. Smoke clogged his airways and yet his body kept sucking it in.

He was wearing a long black cloak and a tailored, slender suit he doubted he would ever wear in real life; feet encased in pointed leather boots with a three-inch flat-heel. They made no sound when he walked, though he could hear the _click-clackedy_ clear as day.

Harry felt himself straighten as two figures came into view, one tall and ridiculously proud and the other small and slender, lagging a bit behind. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe, walking along the shadows as he caught up with the pair.

"Lucius," he called, just as the two Malfoys were about to enter Borgin and Burke's. Grey eyes snapped to his, a sneer curling at his mouth, when he suddenly paused. Recognition flared.

"I've been waiting for you," Harry continued, softly.

* * *

><p><strong>Day ThirtyEnd**


	31. January - Day 31 - Catch

**Day Thirty-One – "Catch"**

* * *

><p>He was plummeting to the ground, body tumbling in arcs, face startlingly bare without his glasses. They had been lost when the Bludger hit, along with one of his gloves, strangely enough. What was left of his broom was zooming towards the stands, nearly taking out one of the Gryffindor Chasers – that redhead, Girl Weasley or whatever she was called.<p>

The students in the stands were screaming incoherently, the teachers hurrying down to the pitch. Chasers and Beaters were trying unsuccessfully to form a plan to catch him, but it looked a bit like a dog's breakfast, in Blaise's opinion. They were all looking to each other for the answer, save Malfoy who was scrambling to right himself, having nearly been hit too. He didn't seem to notice the golden Snitch fluttering in his hood as he stared wide-eyed after his arch-rival.

Blaise turned sharply, watching as one of the Gryffindor Beater's attempted to go after him, despite the huge distance between them. For a split-second he considered shooting after Potter himself, broom thrumming as if it had read his thoughts, but then Dumbledore was lifting his wand and Potter's body froze in mid-air, looking as if he had slammed into an invisible wall.

Blaise watched shrewdly as he was levitated to the ground and immediately pounced on by Madam Pomfrey. Professor Snape summoned the leftovers of his broom with a sharp flick of his wand, not looking very impressed at all.

Dumbledore called for everyone to calm down, that Potter was fine, and the gathered students slowly quieted. He didn't look _fine_. In fact…he looked half-dead. But his hand twitched then, arousing a breathless sort of relief within Blaise.

He breathed in through his teeth, resisting the urge to sigh. Malfoy pulled up beside him and they shared a look, thoughts mirrored in each other's eyes.

Stupid Potter.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-One End**

* * *

><p><strong>Twister Challenge! <strong>Blaise Zabini


	32. February - Day 32 - Petal

**Day Thirty-Two – "Petal"**

* * *

><p>"…Bill?" Hermione asked slowly, baby on her hip, child clutching her leg and a toddler sitting on her right foot. "Er…hello. Molly didn't say anything about you dropping by…"<p>

He cleared his throat, glancing down at the multiple children clinging to her person. He was quiet for a moment before cracking a smile. "No, I didn't tell her. It was meant to be a surprise, see. I didn't get the memo about you babysitting, however…"

Hermione merely stared at him for a good two minutes before it finally clicked. Her face flamed red and she resisted the urge to fan herself, pressing her lips together embarrassedly. And she thought he had forgotten…

"Uh, I'm really sorry, but this isn't a good time…"

"I can see," Bill said thoughtfully. "You got the lot, yeah? Seems a bit inconsiderate of them…"

"I offered!" Hermione said sharply, not liking what he was implying. If it was really a bother, she wouldn't have agreed! Yes, the children were a handful, especially since she had _all_ of them, but it wasn't as if she couldn't handle it. Rose and Hugo were absolute angels, helping her with the others beautifully.

Bill raised his hands and smiled crookedly at her. "I don't suppose you want some adult company? No funny business, I promise. Just sentences with nouns, verbs, pronouns and the correct tense forms. I'll even take care not to call you 'Mummy' or 'Auntie' too."

"You're hilarious," Hermione rolled her eyes, even as a smile stretched across her mouth. It faltered somewhat then, as she thought. Was it really a good idea to let him in, considering his previous intentions? She didn't want the kids picking up any funny ideas, especially when she wasn't really sure what was going on either.

But Bill was _Bill_, and she couldn't just send him packing. She opened the door wider and made her way back to the living-room, checking on the kids not attached to her for something to do. They were all quite happily watching the telly, sippy-cups on hand.

"When's dinner?" Rose asked, making a beeline for her. "We're _hungry_!"

"Alright, alright," Hermione huffed good-naturedly, patting her daughter on the head. "Get the pasta out of the cupboard for mummy, okay?"

There were cheers around the room and Bill laughed, shaking his head at her. The only pasta Hermione dared serve them was a muggle brand, shaped like little dinosaurs. It was always a huge hit.

"Do you want me to do that?" Bill asked, looking pointedly at her – _accessories_.

"I don't know… Can you cook?"

"It's just boiling water," Bill gave her an incredulous look.

"But can you boil water?" Hermione asked, perfectly serious.

Bill slowly shook his head, grinning. "Alright, I get it. I'll take the little one, shall I? Little Lucy, hmm?"

"Thanks," Hermione said as she passed over the baby, more than a little relieved. She still had Fred and Molly hanging off of her, but she could probably distract them with some little Triceratopses. She started on dinner, glancing over towards where Bill had settled himself a little while later. He was rocking Lucy, looking somewhat captivated by whatever was playing for the kids – Aladdin, she thought.

He seemed to sense her gaze, looking up at her from beneath his lashes. She quickly looked away, heart stuttering in her chest. Luckily, Fred chose that moment to ask his all-important question, distracting them both.

"How do the muggles squish the lil' dino-sawrs into food, Auntie Mione?"

* * *

><p>"Well, not exactly the most romantic date I've ever been on," Bill began, laughing when she shot him an affronted look. "Oh, I'm only teasing. But I really did want to take you out, Hermione. I guess I forgot about the kids, in all the excitement…"<p>

She shook her head exasperatedly, lips twitching into a small, pleased smile. "I thought you were joking, so I made plans…"

Bill scoffed and winked before rolling his eyes at her. "I'm hurt, truly! And here I had planned everything out, and you thought it was only a joke!"

Hermione's eyebrows arched up, eyes narrowing. "You didn't really plan a date…oh, Bill!" she said, shaking her head at his sheepish expression.

"I was going to surprise you," he said, shrugging. He wiggled his arm out from behind Molly's head and reached into his trouser-pocket, pulling something out. "They're probably a bit squashed by now but…Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione."

Her eyes widened, immediately recognising the shrunken rose and quill in his hand. The petals were indeed a bit damaged, but the quill – an invention of George's, used to write secret messages – was in perfect shape. She took them somewhat hesitantly, cheeks hot. "Thank you…but I didn't—"

"Don't even bother," Bill rolled his eyes. "I just said it was meant to be a surprise, didn't I?" He smirked then, leaning in. "But, if you really want to get me something – how about a date, this Friday night? Just you and me, no – accessories."

They were both well out of their teens, but Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was experiencing her first romance all over again. _If only_ it had been Bill, all those years ago.

"It's a date," she said, mirroring his somewhat self-conscious expression. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bill."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-TwoEnd**

* * *

><p>Yeah, idk. Not my best work.<p>

**Stupid Cupid - Unusual Valentines!** 10. Bill/Hermione


	33. February - Day 33 - Insomnia

**Day Thirty-Three – "Insomnia" **

* * *

><p>Sirius tapped his desktop continuously, sucking his top lip between his teeth as he edited his newest video. He glanced at his coffee-mug, hoping there was at least a mouthful left, but alas, it was empty. He would have to refill it – or have James do it, when he finally got his arse out of the bathroom.<p>

Sirius paused. Was James even home? His eyes flit to the corner of his monitor, expression scrunching up when he saw it was going on half two in the morning. Fuck, the stupid git was probably snoring away across the hall – or sleeping over at his girlfriend's. Had he come to say goodbye? He wasn't sure.

He wouldn't have heard him anyway, since he had been blasting Queen all afternoon to drown out the sounds of their neighbours going at it. The walls were bloody thick, thick enough that they didn't hear him screaming and hollering at his consoles, yet not thick enough to keep those 'special sounds' to themselves. And boy, were they _special_. Was Tank-Top Girl aware her boyfriend sounded like a dying mule?

Unless she liked that…

Sirius gagged a little, quickly changing the course of his thoughts. He pried his fingers off his mouse and rubbed his eyes, groaning tiredly. He was exhausted, but knew as soon as he lay down to sleep he would be wide-awake again, wondering about all the things happening outside of his flat. A _ping_ pulsed through his headphones and he perked up immediately, his body responding even before his brain.

He saved what he had done so far and quickly swapped tabs, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face when he saw the inevitable.

_MoonBoggart has entered chat._

He got typing immediately, usually the one to initiate the conversation, but paused and blinked in surprise when the ping sounded again.

_MoonBoggart: You're up late. Don't you have college in the morning?_

Sirius rolled his eyes, deleting what he had been about to say and writing anew.

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: Hello to you to Moony :) lol_

_MoonBoggart_: _too*_

Sirius chuckled to himself, pressing his lips together to hide his smirk.

**TheBlackSheep**: LOL! have a bad day?

_MoonBoggart: Spectacularly bad. You know that play I told you about?_

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: that you were helping out with? the one with the buffalo and the chit with the small tits?_

_MoonBoggart: /rollseyes_

_MoonBoggart: Beauty and the Beast, yes. _

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: :D_

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: Close enough ;) wat hapened? _

_MoonBoggart: Our Beast got ill, so I had to fill in. _

_MoonBoggart: Not. Impressed. _

He winced, knowing exactly why that would bother him so much – not that Moony expected him too, considering they had never discussed, nor even hinted at his various medical conditions. Sirius knew a lot of things about Moony that he had to keep secret, lest the other freak out or find out about _him_ in return.

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: D: that sucks, Moony! and it is also very inaccurate. i'm offended, really. i think i'll write them a 'passionate' [see: angry D:] letter!_

_MoonBoggart: ?_

_MoonBoggart: I'm probably going to regret this, but…what? Inaccurate? _

**_TheBlackSheep_**_: you're the Beauty, of course ;D if I had my own play, you'd be the first, last and only option for the role_

A short while passed and there was no response. Sirius frowned, wondering if he had somehow offended Moony. He was about to write an apology [though he had no idea what for] when a new line appeared under his last, though there was no alert-sound.

_MoonBoggart changed name to Beauty_

_Beauty: /flutterseyelashes_

_Beauty: Want to be my Beast?_

Sirius smiled to himself, biting his lip. He glanced at the clock – three in the morning. Oh well, looks as if he'd be sleeping through his morning courses.

Remus was better than anything he could ever dream up, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-ThreeEnd**

* * *

><p>This may or not may become a full-length story. Yay for hinted creeper!Sirius! And now if you would excuse me… [runs away from plot-bunnies]<p>

**Let's Dig Holes Competition! **B5 – "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams" - Dr. Seuss

**The Amateur Divination Challenge!** **Round 3:** **Q**: What is the best Disney movie of all time? **A**: Beauty and the Beast [the others said Frozen?! D:]


	34. February - Day 34 - Nonsense

**Day Thirty-Four – "Nonsense"**

* * *

><p>Lavender ran her fingers through her hair before dropping them to straighten her skirt, staring dully into the body-length mirror. The uniform really wasn't anything to brag about, much uglier than the one she was used to.<p>

Marlene popped up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and peering over her shoulder, pressing their cheeks together. "Hey, Lav. You 'right?"

"Of course," Lavender laughed, turning around to give her girlfriend a quick peck on the lips. "Bad hair day, see. I'll just put on a hat."

"Nonsense!" Marlene said, playing with a lock of her hair. "You're as pretty as always."

Lavender smiled, blushing, though it didn't quite dispel the shadows in her eyes.

_I just wish I could go back, is all. _

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Love In Time Challenge!<strong> Lavender Brown/Marlene McKinnon


	35. February - Day 35 - Wings

**Day Thirty-Five – "Wings"**

* * *

><p>Remus wasn't all that interested in Quidditch; not really. It's not as if he could play, so he preferred not to involve himself in the sport. He couldn't help going to watch when his House played, however.<p>

Sirius Black flew as if he had wings.

He was fascinated, cheering with the crowd as the Gryffindor team slaughtered Hufflepuff. Black was getting cockier and cockier as the game progressed, even flying backwards at one point, but Remus found it oddly cute. He was obviously so excited to be playing, scoring goal after goal with vigour. Four hundred points later, Gryffindor had won.

Remus hadn't lingered on the Pitch. He headed for the Library instead, smiling as he heard Gryffindor cry, "Victory!" and start celebrating, even before they reached the castle. Not even half of the team bothered to go shower.

It was a few hours later, as it was pushing curfew, that Remus headed back for the dorms. He wasn't one for partying, so he tended to avoid it at all costs. Things had died out by then, though it looked as if it had been quite the kicker. Remus was dismayed to see empty bottles of alcohol around the Common Room. No doubt his dorm-mates would be drunk then.

Potter was fast asleep when he opened the door, however, Pettigrew curled half-way under his bed, someone's robes thrown over his legs. He was clutching a bottle of Firewhisky, snoring loudly into his elbow. Black's curtains were closed, trunk wedged open with his Quidditch gear sticking out.

All was quiet. Remus, bemused, made his way across dim, shadowed room. He opened his trunk quietly and set his books inside, shrugging off his school uniform and quickly dressing for bed, not bothering to walk to the bathroom. It was dark and the others were asleep, anyway. He locked up his things and walked around the other side of the bed – and promptly tripped.

On a pair of…knickers?

He didn't dare pick them up, backing away and lighting the tip of his wand to see better. Oh yes, definitely knickers…_satin_ knickers?! He glanced around suspiciously, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps the girl had already left?

His heart sank a little, and his eyes flickered to Black's bed.

All was quiet, but if he looked hard enough, he could see the curtains trembling, the frame creaking into the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as disappointment stabbed deep into his chest. He went the other way round and climbed into his bed, sealing the curtains so he wouldn't be disturbed.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-FiveEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Rubik's Cube Challenge!<strong> Prompt: Victory

**Twister Challenge!** Someone must trip


	36. February - Day 36 - Moon

**Day Thirty-Six – "Moon"**

* * *

><p>Sirius knew what he had to do. He didn't <em>want<em> to, understand, but life was full of unpleasant things and he would just have to deal. He pressed 'Print', expression grim as he listened to the printer spit out his recipe. He picked it up and studied the list, glancing back and forth between his monitor and the page to make sure nothing had changed in the span of two seconds.

He nodded to himself and logged off, folding the recipe and stuffing it in his pocket just as Remus poked his head around the corner, shaving-cream smeared across his right cheek, the other perfectly smooth and clean.

"Did you move my blades again?" he asked, not quite angrily, but definitely annoyed. "This isn't funny anymore, Pads! I can't be looking all over the place when I want to shave!"

Sirius smiled cheekily. "But Moony, you're so rugged and handsome with a beard!"

Remus gave him an unimpressed look. "Sirius."

"What, got a date or something?" he mumbled, crossing his arms childishly, knowing he had lost. Remus didn't understand the power of his 'Mom Stare'…

"I do, actually. Tonks and I are going to see a movie – I _told_ you this, Sirius, but you never lis…"

Sirius tuned him out, seeing red. Oh, consequences be damned! Remus would be his by the end of the week!

* * *

><p>…if he could work up the nerve, that is.<p>

Sirius was, to be quite frank, terrified of his roommate and best friend. They had been together for what seemed like forever – just not in the way he would have liked – and he knew if Remus didn't feel the same way, things would never be the same. He would probably move out, disgusted, buy a house with Tonks, marry her, make gorgeous brown-haired, green-eyed little brats and then eventually die in her arms, too happy to continue living. _Without him!_

Oh, he could just picture it: he would be left all alone, and James and Lily would realise what a loser he was without Remus and they'd abandon him too, and then he would have to kill them all in a fit of the Black Rage and then he would be arrested but he'd frame Peter for it [stupid worm, crushing on his Moony!] and then he would have to break out to hunt down, and claim – wait hadn't he already killed Remus? Oh dear, he was confusing himself—

"Sirius? Why are you staring into space like that? The water's boiling over. Sirius! The water!"

He snapped out of his daydream, squeaking as he quickly turned off the plate beneath his pasta, grabbing the pot and hurrying over to the sink, dumping everything into the waiting colander. Steam hit him smack in the face, clouding his eyes and nose for a moment before he turned his head and dispelled it, grimacing at the hot-wet quality it left behind.

Remus was standing by the stove, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He didn't look particularly impressed – another crappy day at college, Sirius guessed. It wasn't exactly uncommon, seeing as the place was – _special_. Sirius had _told_ him to just go to university, but Remus refused since he didn't want to borrow money from anyone, not even his friends.

His insufferable little snuggle-muffin.

"Er…hullo?" he tried for a grin.

"I thought _I_ was the one who was more likely to burn the house down," Remus said, leaning against the counter and watching him shrewdly.

"There wouldn't have been a fire!" Sirius protested, pouting. "And that means very little, considering we're both shit at cooking. Didn't Lily do the math? You're 13% more likely, and I'm 10%. Not much of a difference, I. M. O."

"…I. M. O?"

Sirius slowly shook his head, blinking. "Sorry. Net-speak." Then, in a mumble, "Potionmaster60 was right…"

"Net-speak?" Remus asked, frowning. "Have you been visiting forums again? _Sirius_…"

"I'm not trolling anyone this time!" Sirius whined, then caught his mistake and quickly turned back to his pasta. "Er, set the table, yeah? Dinner will be done in a few."

Remus ignored his slip-up, glaring at him for good measure before turning around to get plates and cutlery out. Sirius tipped the now-drained pasta back into the pot and went back to the stove, pouring in some packet cheese-sauce. He bumped Remus' hip playfully as he passed, grinning impishly when the other made a distressed noise, nearly dropping the bottle of cola in his hands.

A few minutes later, the food was plated up and they were getting ready to sit down. Remus was putting the cola back in the fridge, about to close the door when he paused, looking puzzled. "What is that black flas—?"

"Don't touch it!" Sirius cried, nearly sending his dinner flying across the kitchen. He quickly set it down, hurrying to the fridge and dragging Remus away. "I-It's nothing, haha! _Nothing_! Why don't you sit down, okay? Hop along!"

Remus looked highly suspicious, but did as he said and went to sit. Sirius pressed a hand to his thumping heart and moved the moulding cabbage so it was hiding the flask _Remus wasn't supposed to see_.

"So, bon appétit!" Sirius said as he sat down, hoping the terrible accent would disguise his sudden nerves. His palms started sweating and his pulse raced, cheeks slowly reddening as if he had a fever. He took a quick sip of his drink, swallowing a little more than necessary and nearly choking.

Remus gave him a concerned look before glancing down at his plate, an amused sort of look crossing his expression. "Macaroni dinosaurs?"

Sirius stared at him, gaping, before making a wounded noise. "_Moony_!"

Remus started, nearly knocking over his glass. "What?! What's wrong?"

"They're not _dinosaurs_!" Sirius whined, holding his bowl up and using his fork to point out the other's mistake. "That's a dog! And look, that's a star! Don't you get it?!"

Remus merely stared at him.

He pressed his lips together, sucking in a deep, calming breath. _Looks as if this failed, after all…_

He had hoped he wouldn't have had to spell it out – maybe Remus would connect all of the obscure dots and jump into his lap? Le sigh. _Time to get the big guns out…_

"It's a reference to our names, see," Sirius explained patiently, nodding encouragingly. "I thought it was funny…the brand is called WolfStar."

"Oh!" Remus said, looking down at his plate again and smiling. "That is funny! I'm sorry, I guess I—"

"Don't worry about it. Say, do you want something to drink?"

"But I just poured some—"

"Great!" Sirius said cheerily, standing and taking their glasses away, pouring the contents down the drain. "Vodka alright? Of course it is."

"I have college—"

"They won't miss you!" was the distracted reply. Sirius opened the fridge, grabbing the flask from behind the cabbage and shaking it. He quickly poured the contents into both of their glasses, though he topped Remus'.

"What is that?" Remus demanded as soon as the liquid came into view, looking vaguely horrified.

"Er, vodka, like I said!"

"That is _not_ vodka."

"And when did you become an expert?" Sirius said snootily, putting the glasses down and settling back onto his chair. "Now, eat your dinner! I worked hard on that!"

Remus pursed his lips, eyeing the brownish-sludgy stuff that had replaced his cola before slowly picking up his fork.

"No, drink first!" Sirius commanded, before blanching and stuttering, "Er…please?"

Remus' eyes snapped to his, mouth thinning. "What did you do to it."

"Nothing! It's just a new recipe, is all! Please, Remus? I tested those muffins you wanted to give Lily for her birthday!"

Remus cringed and Sirius cheered internally, knowing he had won. Those muffins had just about killed him, quite literally poisoning him. The doctors had been baffled, unable to find out what exactly had caused such a reaction, and Remus had refused to disclose what he had put inside the batter. Sirius thought he was probably better off not knowing…

Remus slowly lifting his glass, swallowing visibly. Sirius watched, not even blinking as Remus steeled himself and pinched his nose before taking a _glug_. His face immediately screwed up, going red, and Sirius sat back, leg jiggling impatiently.

He was repeating the recipe in his head over and over, suddenly scared he had missed something or done it wrong. _Vodka, chocolate milk, a chilli pod, a few strands of his hair…_

It was a strange line-up for a Love Potion, in his humble opinion, but the site seemed legit and it even had a fancy Latin name! Amor-something-something. Amor was love, wasn't it? See!

…he had a sneaky feeling he just fucked up.

Remus put down his glass then, looking a bit green and unfocused.

"Are you okay? How do you feel?" Sirius asked immediately, rushing out of his seat and around the table. "Remus?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm as right as rain…"

"You look like you're about to hurl," Sirius said worriedly, torn between moving closer and getting the fuck out of there.

"I'm fi—" Remus cut himself off, suddenly reaching up to his mouth. Sirius flinched back, afraid he was about to puke, but he pulled something from between his teeth instead.

"Is that a…pube?"

"I bloody well hope not!" Sirius squeaked, distracting Remus. The hair fluttered away, never to be seen again; its soundless screams heard only by the sulking dust-bunnies.

Remus blinked up at him, still looking a bit woozy. Sirius grabbed his shoulders to steady him, cursing himself for trying out something so stupid.

At least, he was, until Remus kissed him.

Then he was congratulating himself for a job well-done.

* * *

><p>Remus washed out his mouth for what seemed like the hundredth time, rubbing his eyes and cracking his neck to try and wake himself up. He could still taste that disgusting – <em>thing<em> Sirius had made him! He knew when he had checked the history and seen the recipe that it was going to be bad, but that was just…

Sirius really was a bit of an idiot, sometimes.

He rolled his eyes, smiling as he peeked around the bathroom door, spying said idiot sprawled out across his bed. The moon was still up, shining weakly through the cracked curtains and creating a soft glow.

As if he needed a potion to make Remus fall in love with him – especially not one called "Luscious Lucius' Love Elixir"! Honestly, you'd think trolls would be able to identify others of their kind…

Or, he _hoped_ it was a troll…

He needed to put the Child Safety settings back onto the computer, it seemed.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p>Thanks you to the wonderful Liza [<strong>NeonDomino<strong>] and **firefly81** for helping me with this piece! :D They came up with the WolfStar noodles and beta'd, respectively!

Uh. Yeah.

**Amateur Divination Game Challenge! **Round 4 – **Q**: If Liza were to go to the nearest convenience store, what would she buy? **A**: Noodles :P [it was supposed to be a reference to an earlier conversation…]

**Let's Dig Holes Competition!** C5: impish - having or showing a playful desire to cause trouble; mischievous (word).

**Rubik's Cube Challenge!** Yellow, 2: Muggle!AU

**English Idioms Challenge!** Level 1: "as right as rain"

**60 Prompts Competition! **45. Love. A character gives another a love potion, and believes the love to be false. But it is really real.


	37. February - Day 37 - Stay

**Day Thirty-Seven – "Stay"**

* * *

><p>Sirius shrugged into his jacket and school robes, kicking his used towel towards the basket in the corner of the washroom before checking his hair in the mirror. He brushed a lock behind his ear and sighed, shoulders slumping. He felt and looked exhausted, which James and Peter was starting to question. He supposed they must have thought he was bed-hopping, as rumours from the year before had suggested.<p>

Satisfied with his appearance – as much as he could be, anyhow – Sirius exited and wandered back to the main suite the Room of Requirement had granted him. Expression softening, he paused beside a chair sitting adjacent to the large bed, hand settling on the top. Remus was still sleeping, curled up under the covers backwards, head peeking out the bottom.

Sirius closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He hated having to leave…

"You're going to school," a tiny voice accused, and his eyes snapped open. Remus was sitting up, apparently not having been asleep after all. His scarred face was twisted in grief, brow burrowed over big, reproving green eyes.

"You know I have to," Sirius mumbled, looking away. He couldn't stand to see such a heartbroken expression – it was always the same thing, every morning since he had woken to find Remus peering down at him from a ghostly hover. Remus hadn't had a clue how he had come to haunt the Room of Requirement, though he had quickly come to understand that he could only inhabit the rooms Sirius thought up. It meant that whenever Sirius left, he did too – more violently, however. He would go back to his childhood home, wandering the bedroom he had only been able to call his own for five years before The Attack.

Sirius _hated_ it, but he had to go to classes and nothing could help the fact that Remus would practically cease to exist…at least, until he could get back to the Room of Requirement that evening. He didn't dare go days between visits, lest Remus think himself unwanted.

He knew what it was like, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-SevenEnd**

* * *

><p>This will be continued in a oneshot...but since this has a deadline...<p>

**60 Prompts Competition! **48. Cursed. Write about the Room of Requirement being cursed and all who enter it change.


	38. February - Day 38 - No

**Day Thirty-Eight – "No"**

"So, I was thinking—"

"No."

"But, it's a really good—"

"No."

"Just listen, I think we can—"

"No."

"Would you stop int—!"

"No."

Harry pressed his lips together, biting his tongue. Voldemort hadn't even looked up since he entered the room, quill flicking back and forth on the sheet of parchment before him, making little scratching noises. He was completely focused on whatever was actually written on the sheet – some kind of document or letter regarding strategy, most likely. Harry couldn't give a flying fan-dangle.

Pleasantly, he asked, "Are you going to let me fin—?"

"No."

"So, we can't have fish for di—!"

"No."

Harry glared at him for a long moment, then, deviously, said in one quick breath, "Doyouwanttohavesextonight?"

"No—_wait_, yes! I meant _yes_!"

But Harry was already on his way out, whistling and planning to meet up with Malfoy for a Seekers game. "Your loss!" he called back, hiding a grin.

He knew when he came back to ask about painting their bedroom to look like the muggle aquarium Harry had visited the day before, Voldemort would give him his undivided attention.

**Day Thirty-Eight/End**

* * *

><p>...I was in a cracky mood :(<p>

**60 Prompts Competition! **57. Harrymort. Consensual, established relationship.


	39. February - Day 39 - Chaos

**Day Thirty-Nine – "Chaos"**

* * *

><p>Draco watched him silently, expression drawn and grey. His hands shook in his lap, his bandaged arm twinging with every tiny shudder. He barely noticed the pain however, the same way he had completely forgotten about the throbbing in his face and neck.<p>

The door cracked open then and he tore his eyes away from his unconscious son, heart lurching and speeding up in fear, even as he recognised the Mediwitch walking towards them. She didn't bother with pleasantries, checking Scorpius' vitals and making some notes; nodding sharply at him before leaving.

Draco slowly went back to his self-appointed guard-duty, unable to help noticing how frail his son looked against the pristine white sheets of the hospital bed. He was washed out; hair, skin and features all pale and almost blending into the bedclothes. All except for his angry red wounds, of course.

The Healers said he wouldn't be back to normal for a long time, if ever. It was so _frustrating_, so _horrifying_, so _humiliating_ – he kept reliving the attack, the chaos, over and over again, trying desperately to find a loop-hole. He could have saved his son…he could have saved himself…and yet he just _couldn't_ see it.

There was nothing he could do; nothing he could offer or trade.

Scorpius would be sick for the rest of his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Thirty-NineEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>60 Prompts Competition! <strong>29. Hospital. A parent's child is extremely ill in hospital.


	40. February - Day 40 - Galleons

**Day Forty – "Galleons"**

* * *

><p>Draco slowly raised an eyebrow, setting down his cup and saucer as the hand-drawn Hippogriffs on the envelope before him started bucking and prancing for attention. They were all shaky, thick lines and wobbly details, though recognisable all the same.<p>

He sneered somewhat at the uncharacteristically excitable creatures, absently wondering how the card had even made it through the wards. He briefly considered the possibility of it being from his wife or son, but Astoria preferred to exchange presents in the evening, during their special dinner, and Scorpius only ever drew unicorns as a rule.

Finally, he gave into his curiosity. He used his butter-knife to slit the seal – he could just _see_ his mother's horrified expression, if she ever caught him doing such a thing – and pulled back the flap, almost surprised to see a completely homemade card inside. It was bright blue and _covered_ in glitter, nearly contaminating his bagel. He quickly pulled the envelope away from his early breakfast, scowling and using his serviette to dust the tiny specks off the table.

He shook the card off over an empty bowl and finally looked at the cover.

Another drawing stretched across the front, though this time of a cat – of some sort. He studied it for a moment, wondering about the fifth leg before shaking his head and opening the card. Inside was a short – though extremely untidy – paragraph; definitely a child's doing, after all. And not his, either.

_Dear Mr Willoughby_, it read in large, wobbly letters,

_dad said not to say my name :( but I am 7. I like your books and my aunt said I shud write too you becos some writers like that and it makes them feel apriciatted. _

_I had chocklat four you but it melted and then my sister wiped it on the wall. have this coin instead my uncle gave it to me so I wouldnt tell mum he said a bad word in front of Lily. thats my sister. _

_happy vallentines day!_

_love A.S.P _

_ps do you want to get married?_

_pss he said fuck_

Draco was, not for the first time in his life, speechless. Sure, he had gotten letters and gifts from fans before, but never a _Valentine's_ card. Especially not one with a picture of two penguins on a piece of heart-shaped ice and a dull Galleon stuck to the corner.

And certainly not with a marriage proposal from a seven year old boy!

Absently, he wondered how 'write' was – well, _right_, but everything else somewhat atrocious.

He was drawn from his thoughts when his wife entered the dining room behind him, leaning over his shoulder to peck him on the cheek. She sat down in her usual seat beside him, raising an eyebrow at the glitter sprinkled over his bagel.

"It's from a fan," he explained, setting it down and shaking his head somewhat incredulously. He nodded to Scorpius when he shuffled in, looking dead to the world. He wouldn't have noticed if Draco greeted him properly.

"Oh?" Astoria asked, curious. "That's sweet. What's her name?"

"_He_ doesn't say."

Astoria blinked, then laughed and patted his hand. "You've got a little secret admirer!"

Scorpius, yawning, noticed the card and nicked it from beside his plate, though Draco paid him no mind, too busy scowling at his wife. She appeared to find it all quite amusing, eventually leaning over to kiss him on the mouth as an 'apology' before starting to butter some toast.

Draco kept very quiet, knowing it was the same knife he had used to open his card with. He had his revenge.

It was then that his son decided to ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue, eyes wide and curious.

"What does 'fuck' mean?"

* * *

><p><strong>Day FortyEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Secret Admirer Competition! <strong>Albus S/Draco


	41. February - Day 41 - Dancing

**Day Forty-One – "Dancing"**

* * *

><p>Pansy dipped her quill in the last of her 'red' ink, lovingly creating the ending for her letter. Her last letter, of that kind.<p>

She had loved Bellatrix Black – she refused to call her Lestrange; _refused_ – ever since she could remember. She must have been five, when she saw the portrait for the first time. Draco had abandoned her in search of cake and she had wandered the hallowing halls of his house, lost and angry. Past Malfoys raised eyebrows at her, some calling out and others sneering. It was as tears were gathering in her eyes that she caught the attention of a young, dark-haired witch hung up on the last possible space on the wall, far away from any other Blacks.

Pansy remembered being frightened of her laughter, then inching forwards as the witch cooed at her. She was beautiful and absolutely _terrifying_, wild hair caught in a twist with long strands framing her dark, impish expression. She was wearing a high-collared blouse, the delicate lace not quite suiting her expression. Five-year-old-Pansy had been _fascinated_ by her ample cleavage, looking as if it was trying to escape from her underclothes.

Pansy didn't quite remember the conversation they had shared, but she _did_ remember walking back to where she knew the playroom was, dazed and blushing. She was in love. Which was quite ridiculous, considering Bellatrix had most likely been the cause of the strange red rash that appeared on her arms the next day – all in the shapes of pansies.

When she had heard of the breakout, she had been delighted. She had cracked open a new bottle of ink, bought a lovely peacock-feather quill and dusted off the scented paper her mother had gifted to her on her fifteenth birthday – "for special letters".

They had been special, alright, especially since they tended to start with '_Hi, Bitch_' and ended with '_Love, your Pillow Princess'_.

_And the rest, as they said, was history…_

* * *

><p>"Please tell me you're joking," Draco said, horrified.<p>

Pansy gave him a pitying look. "You know I love women, Draky…"

"It's not THAT!" Draco interrupted. "It's the fact that that woman is my _aunt_! My _clinically insane, prison-escapee, Death Eater_ aunt! Not to mention that that she's MARRIED!"

Pansy sniffed delicately, finishing off the letter she had been working on for the last hour. Dotting her last 'I', she shot Draco a pouty look. "I can't help who I love! I don't judge you for loving Potter!"

"I DON'T LOVE POTTY!" Draco yelled, and the Slytherin Common-Room went dead quiet. For about a second. Then everyone went back to their business, much too used to such outbursts.

"Sure you don't, hun," Pansy cooed, before becoming distracted by something over his shoulder. Draco huffed and scowled, about to give her a piece of his mind when a shadow loomed over him and the Common-Room froze as a whole.

He turned slowly, looking up into the sulking face of his aunt.

"A-Aunt Bellatrix!" he squeaked. "What are _you_ doing _here_?!"

"We're going dancing!" Pansy announced happily. "Didn't I tell you? Bella tracked me down and we've been dating ever since. Honestly, Draco! If you didn't spend so much time staring at Potter's arse, you'd actually _hear_ all of the important things I try to tell you!"

Pansy grabbed his aunt's arm and they flounced away, Bellatrix using the firsties as a make-shift bridge on the way out. Draco watched them, mouth agape.

Then, "…but his arse is so round and stare-able…"

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-OneEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Femslash Challenge!<strong> **Medium**: Pansy/Bellatrix

**The Secret Admirer Competition! **Bellatrix/Pansy


	42. February - Day 42 - Golden

**Day Forty-Two – "Golden"**

* * *

><p>Narcissa bound the box neatly, brushing her wand over the edges of the flimsy wrapping-paper to stick them together. It shone like real silver in the candlelight, mixing perfectly with her vision. Satisfied, she measured and cut a length of silk from the roll she had had sent to her from home; the finishing touch to her little project. She tied it firmly and sat back, admiring her handy-work.<p>

Any girl would be excited for Valentine's Day – the chocolates, jewellery, perfume, dates – but Narcissa, and many other pureblood girls, knew it was so much more than that. Aged fifteen, she needed to start thinking about her future.

What better way to secure it by finding a husband?

It was tradition, for pureblood girls to start scouting this way and Narcissa was no different. Her older sisters had done the same, though Andromeda much more reluctantly and with poorer results, and now it was her turn. She just so happened to know who she wanted, too.

Lucius Malfoy was perfect.

He was handsome and smart; so like his father, her parents often said, while shooting expectant glances her way. He was a Malfoy through and through, well-bred and well brought up, even if his mother…well, Narcissa wouldn't go into that. Her family would whole-heartedly support her decision, which only spurred her on.

She had it all sorted out – the wedding, their rings, the menu she would give the Malfoy elves for their supper, even how many children they would have and what they would name them. She hoped for a girl, after they had their son, of course, Lucius' heir – Draco Lucius, she was quite confident they would call him – and was quite taken with the name Lyra…

Now, all she had to do was woo him…

Brushing back a lock of hair, she reached for a quill and pot of ink, dipping it inside and grabbing one of the labels beside her other supplies. She used her Transfiguration textbook to write on, curling every letter carefully.

_Much Affection, Draco's Mother._

Bellatrix had scoffed when she had proposed her 'alias' but Narcissa thought it was quite clever. She was giving a hint as to her identity, as well showing her interest in marriage and children, which was obviously very important.

Sticking the label to the silver box, she whispered a spell and watched as her handwriting vanished in a golden haze, invisible even to her. Only Lucius would be able to see it.

Smirking, she put it into her trunk just as one of her dorm-mates entered the room, carrying a box of her own. They shared a knowing look.

Valentine's would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-TwoEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Secret Admirer Competition! <strong>Narcissa/Lucius


	43. February - Day 43 - Flying

**Day Forty-Three – "Flying"**

* * *

><p>Harry was staring, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. He slowly reached out, fingers wrapping around the hovering Snitch as if he expected it to dart away – and dart away it did. It flew upwards, spinning and flying in a sharp circle before exploding in a shower of sparks and glitter.<p>

Everyone flinched, but leaned back in almost immediately to try and get a glimpse of his reaction, and what the Snitch was doing. It was miraculously still in one piece, but spitting what looked like actual pixie-dust. It was floating ominously in the air, before there was another, smaller explosion, and the dust started coming together in sharp, weaving motions.

They were forming letters.

Before Harry could even comprehend the awed coo Hermione made at his side, he had guessed the forming sentence. A second later, the dust glimmered finitely; defiantly.

_Harry Potter, Will You Be My Valentine? _

The Hall was dead silent, waiting with baited breath for his reply. He knew, instinctively, who it was from – or, really, he _didn't_ know…and that was the point. For the last two weeks he had been getting notes and letters and sweets, all signed off with 'Much Affection, Your Secret Admirer'. He had thought it was a prank at first, but as the things kept coming, he couldn't help but…well, _like_ them. He came to expect them, enjoying the times when he would find the gifts or when they would arrive in the post.

He figured he might as well give it a shot.

Raising an eyebrow, he said, "…er, alright."

Cheers and wolf-whistles erupted, everyone looking around, trying to figure out who had sent the Valentine. There were some shouts across the room, some nudging, even some crying.

Harry, who had been glancing over the other tables, couldn't help but notice how Malfoy was sitting with his back to Gryffindor, hunched over as he ate his breakfast, seemingly oblivious to his housemates' raucous behaviour.

He shook his head, hand balling into a fist.

_What did he care how pathetic Malfoy looked? _

Suddenly, a body was pushed into his side, and he just caught Ginny before she went sprawling. The twins and even Ron was grinning widely, making kissy faces, while Ginny just looked confused. She pulled away, looking from him to the Snitch.

His eyes widened, mouth going dry. "Ginny…?"

"That was such a clever idea, Gin!" Hermione said, over the cheers of Gryffindor.

Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it slowly and smiled weakly. "Yeah…thanks, Hermione…" She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

Harry looked sharply back over his shoulder on instinct, just in time to see Malfoy exit the Great Hall, Zabini at his side. He clenched his teeth, looking away.

_What did he care?_ he asked himself again.

* * *

><p>"Clever, indeed," Blaise said, arching an eyebrow. "And you're just going to let Weaselette take credit for it?"<p>

Draco sneered. "Please, it was a prank. As if I care."

Neither mentioned the white-knuckled way in which he held his books, nor the various notes sticking out of his bag.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-ThreeEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Secret Admirer Competition!<strong> Drarry


	44. February - Day 44 - Always

**Day Forty-Four – "Always"**

* * *

><p>Albus was stuck on what to write about. He had already cropped and cut from the book his brother snuck him – <em>How to Woo Wizards with Words<em> – he had written enough poetry for a century and there was no way he sending a simple "Happy Valentine's".

Sighing, he put down his quill and rubbed his eyes.

He knew what Jamie would say… His brother had been his unlikely wing-man ever since he had found him writing "_gooey letters for your little looooover_" – for a price, of course, though he appreciated the support all the same. They didn't have the best track-record of getting on, and Albus liked it when they did. Even if James was constantly cracking jokes about the whole situation.

Albus always did get his revenge…

He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, breath leaving his lungs in a huff. He knew it was time – it was just a case of wording it exactly right, so he wouldn't sound like a desperate idiot.

Feeling brave, he dipped his quill into his ink and started anew.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Scorpius,<em>

_I've been sending you gifts and notes for a while now. I think it's, finally, time I get up the courage to face you without my alias protecting me. If you'd like that, of course…_

_Meet me at the entrance of the Astronomy Tower at 9.30am on the fourteenth. _

_Always,_

_Asp_

* * *

><p>"You're…Asp?" Scorpius said, amused.<p>

Potter grimaced, hands clenched in his pockets. He rocked back on his feet, staring at the ground. "Not what you were expecting, huh?" he mumbled.

"Well, considering that I've seen you sneaking things to my owl, I'd say…yes, you're pretty much what I was expecting."

Potter looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. He took a step back, and then another, but Scorpius grabbed his arm before he could bolt.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," he said irritably, brushing back a lock of hair from his eyes with his free hand. "Goodness, have some confidence."

And then he kissed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-FourEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Secret Admirer Competition!<strong> Albus S/Scorpius


	45. February - Day 45 - Bitter

**Day Forty-Five – "Bitter"**

* * *

><p>She had been so lonely, ever since that idiotic witch planted her all those years ago. She couldn't help but be wary of the fledglings that teemed on the grounds, her branches snapping back and forth protectively, lest they get past her defences. She hated humans.<p>

But she couldn't hate the little wolf-boy.

He came to her consecutively, shaking and anxious and scared, and she would take pity on him, slowing her sweeps and allowing him to wobble forwards, crawling into the secret tunnel at her feet. Sometimes he thanked her, meek and afraid; other times he was too busy trying to get to the other side before he Changed. She didn't mind, however.

And then those pests had stolen him away, treating her as an inconvenience rather than a soldier, guarding his little hide-out.

After that, she had stopped for no-one.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-FiveEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>10 Characters, 10 Prompts Challenge! <strong>[Character] Whomping Willow, [Prompt] Wobble


	46. February - Day 46 - Cosy

**Day Forty-Six – "Cosy"**

* * *

><p>Harry swung his foot idly, head propped up on his elbow as he watched the warm crackling fireplace, drooping eyes drifting every now and then towards where Lucius was working at his [oversized] desk. Harry hadn't a clue what he was doing, nor did he care. He had learned not to ask after the fourth "money, money, wealth, money, business" lecture.<p>

"You have work in the morning, do you not?" Lucius said, breaking the long silence, before adding, "You should probably retire for tonight."

The scratch of a quill accompanied his voice, followed by a soft clink. Harry looked back to see him levitating a wine bottle from the bookshelf, tilting it to fill his glass back up.

His fingers tightened around his own glass, eyes flickering downwards. There was only a tiny amount left, despite it being a bit too acerbic for his tastes. "M'waiting for you to finish. It's…cold up there."

Lucius didn't respond for a long moment, quill continuing without a snag, though when Harry dragged his eyes away from his wine, having realised he had probably had more than he really should have on a weeknight, he looked – normal. Relaxed. A huge difference, compared to his previously unapproachable aura.

Harry finished off his wine, settling back for another hour of dozing.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Pairing The Character Competition!<strong> Week 1 – Harry


	47. February - Day 47 - Friend

**Day Forty-Seven – "Friend"**

* * *

><p>When Albus asked to come through the Floo, eyes red-rimmed and bulging school-bag slung across his chest, I hadn't questioned it. I planned to sneak him past the dining-room where my parents and grandparents were discussing who-knows-what, but the jingling of whatever he had stuffed into his bag gave us away nearly immediately.<p>

"Scorpius? What are – Albus?"

Suddenly everyone was focused on us. Mum seemed to notice Al's distress first, standing and brushing off her lap sharply, seeming to forget in that moment that she was wearing slacks and not a skirt.

"Has something happened, dear?"

Father seemed more cautious than concerned, putting a hand on Mum's shoulder as if to restrain her. They shared a quick look.

"No, er, everything's fine," Albus said, nearly whispering. Quickly scrubbing at his cheek, he asked shakily, "Is it okay if I – I mean, could I please stay the night? I won't be a bother…"

"You may," Father said, surprising us; he tended to stay in the background when Albus was involved. Mum nodded encouragingly, looking as if she wanted to come forward and fuss over Albus. Grandmother and Grandfather said nothing, merely assessing the situation.

"Do your parents know you are here?" Mum asked, before I could suggest we go to my bedroom. "Do I need to inform them you are here, and not on the streets somewhere?"

Albus went bright red, though it wasn't from anger. "Y-Yes, please, Mrs. Malfoy…"

Mum merely smiled and excused herself, patting Father's shoulder on the way out. He was sitting again, nodding to us before turning back to Grandfather to continue their conversation. I couldn't help but notice how Grandmother seemed to relax, more comfortable when it was just the three of them.

"Come on," I said, taking Al's elbow and leading him out of the room. The walk to my bedroom was quiet, though a sniffle was heard every now and then. I held out the handkerchief Auntie Daphne had given me last fall wordlessly. Albus took it, equally silent, and blew his nose quietly.

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head when he tried to give it back. He offered a watery grin, though it had faded within minutes.

Whatever it was that had happened, I was glad he had come to me. We were friends, after all.

Best friends.

* * *

><p>It was later, after dinner and as we were getting ready for bed that Albus finally revealed what it was that had prompted him to hide out in my house. He had his back turned, buttoning up the pyjama-top I was lending to him – he had brought everything but pyjamas, it looked like.<p>

His voice was soft and scratchy, hands most likely fumbling with the small, pearly buttons I knew kept the old-fashioned gown-like top together. He seemed to be struggling to keep his voice even, breath puffing softly from his lungs.

"My parents are getting a divorce."

I looked reflectively at my bedside clock, wondering idly if time had stopped after all. But no, the thin hands continued ticking, slowly counting off a minute and then another. When I could unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I tried to say something – anything. But all that came out was, "Oh…"

Albus was sucking in quick, sharp breaths. His voice cracked. "They're going to finalise it next week. They said they wanted to tell us over the holidays, so we wouldn't be pulled from school until everything could be sorted."

I stood slowly, approaching his back. I had no idea what to say, how to comfort him. My first instinct was to wrap him in a hug, as my father had done to me when he admitted he and Mum were considering splitting all those years ao, but I knew it wouldn't be received well. Not after that kiss on Christmas Eve…

I lay a shaky hand on his shoulder instead, feeling the bony ridges under my hand. "Al…"

He went on, outright crying then. "And you k-know the w-worst p-part?"

I swallowed thickly.

"Lily is going with Mum, and James is staying with Dad. But I don't know where I'm supposed to go."

Albus cried himself to sleep that night, lying beside me, curled up in a tiny ball. I watched the ceiling, tracking the shadows as the moon set and the sun slowly rose, weak rays filtering into the room. I knew it wasn't as simple as his parents not wanting him, and he probably knew that too, but when Mr. Potter showed up at breakfast, looking as if he had slept at the kitchen table and practically deflating when he saw Albus, safe and sound, I couldn't help but hate him.

Albus went with him wordlessly, but not before spending a good five minutes clinging to me in the privacy of my bedroom. He muttered nonsense into my shoulder; apologies and self-deprecating drivel, telling me how they were going to make him choose who to go with, and that he had heard them rowing about it before he ran away.

I held him silently, and when he had gone, looking as if he was about to walk to his own funeral, I told my parents how much I loved their ability to understand each other, even when they were fuming mad.

Mum gave me a hug and a kiss before bed that night, for the first time in five years. I couldn't find it within myself to care about how childish I must have seemed as I squeezed her back, staring at the wall over her shoulder.

* * *

><p>Albus owled me later that summer from his new address. He had ended up staying with his dad, though it had been the Ministry's choice, rather than his or his parents; apparently Mr. Potter was adamant that he had wanted full-custody of him anyway. Albus didn't seem convinced, even in the following years.<p>

I could only watch, offering support, Chocolate Frogs and a place to sleep when I felt it appropriate. Albus was difficult to interpret, but that was okay.

He was my friend, and I would stick by him no matter what.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-SevenEnd**

* * *

><p>If they seem OOC...it's because they are. Sort of an experimental fic - writing in first person is difficult for me.<p>

**Written for:**

**The Game of Life Challenge!** Prompt: Divorce

**The 'If You Dare' Challenge!** 506. Tears [3/100]


	48. February - Day 48 - The Sorting Hat

**Day Forty-Eight – "The Sorting Hat"**

* * *

><p>I felt sick. It was getting closer and closer, my chest constricting painfully as the minutes dragged by. Almost, almost…<p>

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

I walked on shaky legs, shoes clicking softly. The Hall was quiet, watching me with shrewd, calculating eyes. I could _feel_ them judging me, waiting for me to make the wrong move so they could prove themselves right. They _wanted_ me to fail.

I tilted my chin up, staring ahead defiantly. The Sorting Hat hovered over the stool, the Deputy Headmaster's arm held out as if he didn't dare touch the children who came up. I tried to ignore how he stepped aside when I got onto the small platform, sitting neatly on the stool and staring out over the Great Hall.

There was a short, tense silence before the Hat was dropped onto my head, its worn frame slumping and sliding down my forehead, nearly covering my eyes. The ragged brim brushed my shoulders as it curved around my head.

_A Malfoy, eh?_ the Hat said musingly, voice echoing through my head. It said nothing more, however, merely humming indecisively, and my nerves sky-rocketed. A second past, two, three, four… Hadn't Father been Sorted immediately? Mother, too…

The Hat chuckled, and my shoulders hunched up automatically.

_Your parents were easy to Sort, my boy. You, however...where do I put you?_

I was surprised. _Are you…asking for my opinion?_

_It would not hurt, though I already know your thoughts_, the Hat said, amused. _You do not mind, though you would 'absolutely die' if you were placed in Gryffindor. _

I felt my cheeks heat at his mocking tone. _I am not brave_, I protested. _Nor stupid..._

_Work with an attitude like that, my boy, and you will most definitely fail, _the Hat advised._ The Houses are known for certain characteristics, yes, but it is not as simple as that._

I frowned at my lap, faintly annoyed at his chiding tone. I heard enough of that from Mum…

The Hat, apparently having made up his mind, slid up a bit so my eyes weren't shadowed. _Look at the House tables_, it advised.

I did so slowly, confused. The dim lighting meant that no-one could see my face, but I could most definitely see theirs. I looked over the four tables, not quite sure what I was looking for.

_Now…tell me, young Mr. Malfoy…which table looks most welcoming? _

My answer was immediate.

_Hufflepuff_.

Even with their atrocious colours and rather – _laughable_ representation, anyone could see they were the friendliest of the four. Curly-haired, full-cheeked smiley girls and wavy, cheerful boys.

The Hat chuckled and I felt a flash of embarrassment.

_Do not think like that,_ the Hat chided, sensing my thoughts. _You are quite correct – or, most people say the same thing. Hufflepuffs tend to be friendly and inviting. Even now, cowed by the others' reactions, they are curious and open._

_You're not going to put me in Hufflepuff, are you?_ I couldn't help but ask, hiding a grimace.

The Hat scoffed. _You're missing the point, boy. Now, look again. _

I did, sighing a bit.

_Which House do you think you would fail in?_

I thought. _Gryffindor_, I said finally.

_Why?_

_Why? Because…because it's Gryffindor! _

_But isn't that a reason to go there, then? To strive in an environment where you would be at odds?_ The Hat didn't wait for my answer, having already seen my shock and then thoughtfulness. _Look back, Mr. Malfoy. _

I was starting to sense a pattern.

_Which House do you think you'll strive in?_

All was silent. My thoughts were a soft buzz, the seconds ticking by slowly.

_Ravenclaw, definitely_, was my eventual answer.

_Like your mother,_ the Hat chuckled. _Yes, you have the smarts. You could be great there; a leader. And now—_

_Look again?_ I said, straight-faced.

_Cheeky brat_, the Hat huffed. _Yes, look again. Where, Mr. Malfoy, would you be most comfortable?_

There was no other option.

_Slytherin_, I said confidently. I had grown up around Slytherins; the cold, the cowardly, the considerate. I knew how to act, how to wind them around my little finger. There was no doubt I would be right at home in the Dungeons.

The Hat agreed. _Yes, you would do well there, too. But I have a dilemma, my boy. Where, as I said earlier, do I put you?_

_Where do I want to go? Are we allowed to choose?_ I said, scrabbling for time. I didn't know if I wanted to choose…

_It has been known to happen_, was the cryptic response.

I swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling the weight of the stares upon me.

_Think about what we've just discussed, _the Hat suggested._ Where would you strive? Where would you fit in? Where would you be challenged? Where would you find _It_?_

I wasn't sure what 'it' was, but I had a feeling I would find out very soon. I clenched the edge of the stool, resisting the urge to chew on the inside of my cheek.

A long moment passed.

_Have you come to a decision?_

_Yes_, I said after another, shorter pause. _I have._

The Hat hummed thoughtfully. _If you're sure_, it said.

_I am. _

And I was.

* * *

><p>The Hat smiled to itself, as it made its announcement. It ignored the shocked gasps, wolf-whistles and outraged yells.<p>

They had made the right choice.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-EightEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The First Time Competition!<strong> [Medium] Scorpius Malfoy is Sorted


	49. February - Day 49 - Magic

**Day Forty-Nine – "Magic"**

* * *

><p>Scorpius was trembling, staring at him with an utterly <em>terrified<em> expression. He wanted to reach out, to tell him it was okay, that it was just a bit of accidental magic, but Draco didn't want to say anything until he had seen the damage for himself.

By his wife's face, lips pressed together as if she were trying so hard not to laugh, he was truly a sight to behold.

Fuck his life.

"Are you going to put your trousers back on now?" he asked evenly, expression flat.

Scorpius nodded insistently, nearly tripping over himself to find where he had tossed them to, pale legs a blur.

"How bad is it?" Draco demanded as soon as his son was out of hearing-range. He patted his face and clothes persistently, but couldn't feel anything out of the ordinary. No crooked features, added decorations or strange liquids, despite having felt a sensation akin to being doused with frigid water when the magic hit.

Astoria looked as if she didn't want to tell him, before sighing shakily as she repressed her amusement; pulling out her wand to charm her ring into a mirror.

Draco took it gingerly, swallowing thickly as he braced himself. He counted to five, then flipped the mirror.

He may have died a little inside.

"…well, at least we know he's not a Squib?" Astoria offered after a moment.

Draco was too busy mourning his ash-blond hair, now Weasley-red, to hear her.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Forty-NineEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Game of Life Challenge!<strong> Prompt: First use of magic


	50. February - Day 50 - Happy

**Day Fifty – "Happy"**

* * *

><p>Rose Weasley was the daughter of two brave, successful, esteemed people – war heroes. They were famous, and not just because they were the best friends of Harry Potter. No, they had done their own deeds and had <em>earned<em> their places in society.

And she was damned proud.

There was nothing like that little _zing_ as someone realised or acknowledged her heritage; a shivery sort of pleasure that sent her heart racing, cheeks blooming with colour. She couldn't help smiling afterwards, a little bounce to her step. The others looked at her strangely, including her own family members, but she always brushed it off. What did they know? She was only taking pride in her parents; in her name.

The others could take a page from her book. Her cousin Albus was like a mouse, flinching away from anyone interested in their family, ignoring her own questions. He feigned embarrassment in front of his _Slytherin_ "friends" instead, curling his lip when she stood up to his posse. Rose didn't understand how he could bear to be around such disrespectful people, though she supposed he was rebelling, like her uncle Harry complained when he came over to have tea with her mother. It wasn't any kind of surprise, really – she would forgive him, knowing this.

He would see, eventually, that he came from strong, influential roots. She didn't understand why it was so bad to be proud of where you came from; though, she supposed not everyone could be. Not like her, anyway. She was blessed.

…so why did she feel so empty, when she looked at Scorpius Malfoy? He wasn't anything special – the son of a pathetic Death Eater, the grandson of a man who would do anything, even have a little girl killed, to spoil the reputation of another family.

He wasn't anything special, he didn't have parents to be proud of…and yet he was so much happier than her.

* * *

><p><strong>Day FiftyEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Twister Challenge! <strong>Rose Weasley


	51. February - Day 51 - Fracture

**Day Fifty-One – "Fracture"**

* * *

><p>He sat trembling, clutching at his knees as he felt something <em>shift<em> inside of him. He flinched, eyes flying wide and throat constricting as he swallowed a gurgling cry. He tried to stand, but his legs refused to do as he wished and he toppled to the floor instead. A burning, searing sensation erupted in his side and he flung himself forward, crawling across the cool, smooth floor to where he thought the door was. His limbs flailed, joints cracking.

There was a howl, and Remus Lupin screamed.

* * *

><p>"No!" I cried, banging on the cold, metal walls. "No, Mummy! Daddy! NO! Let me out! <em>LET ME OUT<em>!"

There was something in the room with me, something scary and _Dark_, clawing at my skin, gnawing on my bones. I shouted, cried, promised to be good, to become healthy again, to be a _normal_ boy.

They never came back.

* * *

><p>His lungs were swelling in his chest, feeling as if they were about to burst as he tried to scream with all of his might. He desperately wanted someone to save him, someone to come in, wrap their arms around him and tell him it was alright – but there was no-one except himself and <em>It<em>.

He was at It's mercy, and It had never heard of such a thing.

* * *

><p>It was coming closer and closer, and I screamed, voice like knives along my throat. I kept looking back, staring urgently into the darkness, but I couldn't see anything. I could <em>hear<em> It, claws scratching along the floor and jaw snapping; grumbling, resonating growls echoing.

It snatched forward and seized my leg and I doubled over as _pain_ flared throughout my body; voice failing, a soundless scream bubbling from my throat.

My head rebounded off the floor as it ripped me backwards, dragging me into the darkness.

* * *

><p>The pain was sharp, as if rows and rows of teeth – <em>his teeth<em>, a voice compared – had locked around his ankle. He could feel the insides cracking and splintering, something like lava spreading throughout the now-useless limb. The bones snapped, crackled and popped, stretching out and moulding into thin, curving shapes.

Coarse fur shot out of the seemingly torn, bloodied flesh, knotting and burrowing under the skin like roots. It spread up his body like a wildfire, itching into his core.

_He could hear nothing, see nothing, _feel_ nothing_ – all he was aware of was the pain and fear clinging to every cell in his body. His spine arched, snapping, and his neck cracked to the side, jaw lengthening and dragging away from his skull, curving sharply. His screams become growls and yips, his heart thumping like a rubber bouncy-ball in his chest; smacking repeatedly against his ribcage.

When he stood on shaky, fawn-like legs, he knew of only one desire: to show everyone the pain he had been forced through.

* * *

><p><em>Strong, secure arms wrapped around his trembling body, and an emotion-rough voice whispered in his ear:<em>

_"It's alright, Moony. I've got you."_

_It was never as painful as the first, after that._

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-OneEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The First Time Competition!<strong> [Medium] Remus Lupin; first transformation


	52. February - Day 52 - Bathroom

**Day Fifty-Two – "Bathroom"**

* * *

><p>"What have you done?" you whisper, trembling. He stares wide-eyed at his hand, as if he can't believe the gun resting there would fire anything more than bubbles. He shrugs then, and you feel your heart leap into your throat.<p>

"He deserved it. Did you see the way he was looking at you? Honestly! You'd think he'd have learned by…hey Remus," he softens his voice, confused. "Babe, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You step back, stumbling, but then he is walking forwards, eyes alight with something you don't recognise – something you don't _want_ to recognise. He frowns as if you're a small annoyance rather than an unwilling accomplice trying to make your escape. Your stomach turns sharply at the thought.

_You_ had brought him there. Told him Sirius had passed out in the bathroom.

He grabs you in a hug, squeezing with more force than necessary. "Don't be scared," he whispers in your ear. "We'll hide the body, okay? We'll tell Lily he ran off with Mary. That he couldn't handle it here anymore."

You feel the barrel of a gun against your leg and you close your eyes, but no tears spill over.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-TwoEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Game of Life Challenge!<strong> Prompt: Slightly Insane!Sirius [To keep Liza from making off with my monies]


	53. February - Day 53 - Trick

**Day Fifty-Three – "Trick"**

* * *

><p>All was quiet, despite it being a Hogsmeade weekend. Lucius sneered, staring at the meaty fingers pinching his cigarette as he flicked off the accumulating ash. He had been given a portly middle-aged man that week, despite his [feeble] protests. Hopefully his Lord would allow him to go back to the ex-Beauxbatons' student. At least <em>she<em> was attractive. Even if her skirt made him self-conscious about his legs…

A quiet scuffle caught his attention and he quickly looked up, pig-like eyes narrowing as they were immediately drawn to a group of students entering the village. They steadily got louder and louder, boots crunching over the melting snow and voices echoing through the chilly air. They were laughing, talking, whining.

_Teenagers_, he thought in disgust, despite having been one himself not so long ago. He had been hoping to avoid them, having seen how empty Hogsmeade had been, but it looked as if he would have to do his assignment around them after all. He shifted on the bench he was sitting on, petulant. _Of course_ he had gotten the boring job, watching for that idiot Thomson. He would much rather be at the Manor, tending to his and Narcissa's courtship.

Instead, he had been assigned another tedious task in a village he had avoided even when he was at school, and now he had to share the same air with some brats who were probably transferring their diseases to everyone around them at that very minute!

He very discreetly pulled his coat up to cover his mouth and nose, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot. He hoped Thomson would come soon, so he could kill the bugger and just get it over with. It was getting warmer, almost springtime, but it was cold and either way, he didn't want to sit around all day in the frosty wind.

"Do you really think that?" someone exclaimed, and he winced at the pitch. He glared at the group it had come from, but they didn't seem to notice him. They moved on and he rubbed his hands together, slumping on the bench, grimacing as his temporary-stomach jiggled with the movement.

He knew he should have snuck out behind Lestrange before his Lord could notice him…

He _probably_ shouldn't have complained about hearing his father and his Lord going at it the night before, either…

He shuddered, quickly pushing _that_ particular thought away. But of course he was distracted by the similar threads it had brought up… _Honestly_, _at their age!_

Another stray conversation caught his attention and he sneered automatically, the expression freezing when he recognised the two boys – they were hardly _men_ – sneaking into the alley directly across from his bench. He watched, somewhat horrified, as Black shoved who Lucius could only assume was his little lover into the filthy wall, muttering something in his ear and grabbing him –_down there_.

Lucius couldn't look away. He had always known Black was a crude, senseless creature…_but outside? Without even a Disillusionment charm?_

They seemed perfectly happy to go at it, though luckily didn't remove any clothing. Lucius thought he might have had to leave if that were to happen – even if it would make for an interesting…er, _thought_, later on, when he was bathing…

In his _reluctant_ inspection, he missed the cheerful blond man exiting a store, walking past and away from Lucius, before pausing and backing up.

"…kids are so lazy these days," the man tutted. "You'd think they'd at least cast a Disillusionment charm."

Lucius grunted in response, not caring for niceties. He made it his own personal mission to be as rude and sloppy as he could, when his Lord sent him on missions that required Polyjuice or Glamours – his own way of rebelling against the system. _Though that was hardly a mission_, he groused.

Lucius realised, rather belatedly, who exactly had dared to speak to him a few minutes later, as he surveyed the area around him, pointedly ignoring Black and his…boyfriend.

_Thomson had gotten away!_

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-ThreeEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Game of Life Challenge!<strong>** Prompt: **Transfer[ring]

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

Arithmancy: Assignment 5 / **Task: **I would like you to write about somebody's day (or more) at work i.e. Arthur at the Ministry, teachers at school, Bill at gringotts or even a death eater working for their master.

**Round Three of the 'A Demigod Wizard's Duel at the Hunger Games Competition'!**

-Team/Position/Representative: Hogwarts / Wizard 2 / Lucius Malfoy

-Task 4 – Write a fic about your Rep. changing their appearance. (Ex: Polyjuice Potion, Metamorphmagus, a "makeover", etc.)

-Prompts: **3**. "Do you really think that?" / **6**. Beauxbatons / **9**. Springtime


	54. February - Day 54 - Ice-Cream

**Day Fifty-Four – "Ice-Cream" **

* * *

><p>Sirius was afraid.<p>

Rather afraid, actually.

So very, _very_ afraid…of his five year old son, Harry. Godson, really, though he had recently started thinking the former…

"You love each other very much," Harry declared.

Sirius nodded, trying not to look around.

"And now you have to get married."

"Right." Oh dear Lord, who had Harry chosen this time…

"And make lots of babies, because that's what married people do."

"If you say so." He felt a bit faint.

"Teddy!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, and held out his little hand expectantly. Teddy, as Sirius had come to know him as, obediently passed him a small bottle of bubbles. Harry solemnly twisted off the top and puffed into the wand, a small, lone, soapy bubble rising pitifully into the air and flying away.

"You are now married!"

The two young boys watched it for a moment before losing interest and running off, spying the ice-cream man. Sirius watched them go, then slowly turned to the bench where he knew Teddy's father was sitting. He was wearing a flower-crown, Sirius noticed immediately.

He sympathised.

Approaching him, picnic basket digging into his hip, he tried not to seem as if he had no idea what just happened.

"Hi," he said, stumped. "So…I guess we're married now? You know, under the authority of Minister Bubbles. I'm Sirius Black."

"Remus Lupin," his new husband replied, eyes glittering in amusement. Sirius couldn't help smiling too, sitting down beside the taller man.

"If you don't mind, I think we can wait on the making babies part," Lupin said, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. "These two are handfuls, enough…"

Sirius grinned. "Tea?" he offered after a moment, opening his nearly-forgotten picnic-basket. "I don't have a teacup, though…"

"A cup? Oh no, my good sir, I think you are mistaken. There are so such things in my house." Leaning in, Remus whispered, "Poor Teddy is a bit clumsy."

Sirius flushed immediately as the whisper brushed his ear, but had to pull away, regretfully, as he saw exactly what his son was doing.

"HARRY! Don't put that – _no_ – HARRY! THAT DOESN'T GO THERE! Okay? They don't belong – oh for god's sake—_TAKE THOSE POOR WORMS FROM YOUR TROUSERS_!"

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-Four<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Ludo Game Challenge!<strong> Prompts / Remus: teacup', 'bubbles', "That doesn't go there"


	55. February - Day 55 - Space

**Day Fifty-Five – "Space"**

* * *

><p>"For god's sake, Potter! Would you just give me some space?! You're nattering on at me every <em>damn<em> day, 24/7! Can't I just have a few hours to myself?!"

She says this, chest heaving, tears in her eyes. People are staring, whispering, some amused, some pitying. You drop your arm slowly to your side, wilting flower held loosely between your fingers. You hide it behind your leg, sure she hasn't noticed it yet.

She turns and rushes away, Mary hurrying after her, carrying both of their bags. You think you see Snivellus in the crowd, but when you look, there is only your housemates. Remus is there too, thin arms cradling his books to his chest. Sirius is nowhere to be seen.

Cheeks burning, chest constricting painfully, you leave. You're not sure where you're going – but you do know that it is _far_ from there. When you find yourself at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you don't hesitate in transforming.

You wonder, not for the first time, why you feel as if the heart on your sleeve has been crushed under a spike-heeled boot.

* * *

><p>A Sixth Year turned her down, you hear the next day. Someone had told him – or one of his friends, depending on whose version you're going on – that she had liked him ever since First Year and was dying to go to Hogsmeade with him. They had apparently run into each other in the hall in the rush to get to their respective classes, and one thing led to another…<p>

All you had known that day was that she had looked close to tears during Herbology. You had wanted to cheer her up, put that pretty smile back on her face. You figured she would laugh at the pathetic flower you had nicked from one of the flowerbeds; maybe she'd be touched by your gesture.

You know better now.

Lily doesn't want your sad flowers, terrible poetry or funny – _Sirius promised they were!_ – chat-up lines.

She just wanted space. So you give it to her.

Because you love her.

* * *

><p>"Potter," she says curtly, when you're paired up in Charms.<p>

You nod, frowning slightly at your textbook. You had spilled hot-chocolate on the page the night before, and you can't make out if that was a 't' or a 'c'. You look to Sirius for help, but he's too busy staring across the room to notice your confusion, alternating between making cow eyes at Remus and glaring at Snape.

Remus looks back at him then and you watch with something like jealousy as they share one of _those_ looks, smiling goofily before turning back to the task at hand.

You glance at Lily reflexively, but she is looking away. You don't see the hurt look in her eyes.

Sighing inaudibly, you try to read through the chapter.

You wish, idly, that Sirius and Remus would just confess to each other already. They are so oblivious, sometimes.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-FiveEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Ship Til You Drop Competition!<strong> James Potter/Lily Evans


	56. February - Day 56 - Truth

**Day Fifty-Six – "Truth"**

* * *

><p>She snuffles into your side, bare legs brushing yours as you. You lay still, staring at the ceiling blankly.<p>

You're not sure what you're doing there, anymore. Why you sought her out, why you thought it was a good idea in the first place. You're not sure of anything, lately.

But of course you _do_ know why you chose her. Why it was – is – so important.

You hope Barty will forgive you, though you know he won't be as lenient as Sirius.

What would Sirius care, if Marlene was sleeping with other men or women? They are only fuck-buddies.

You wish you knew this before you saw her in the pub, looking so unlike any woman your parents would have agreed on as wife-material.

So plain. So uninteresting. You think, still, this is only reason why Sirius bothers with her.

That is enough for you.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Ship Til You Drop Competition!<strong> Regulus Black/Marlene McKinnon


	57. February - Day 57 - Decoration

**Day Fifty-Seven – "Decoration"**

* * *

><p>"You killed her."<p>

"I did not," you reply, silver locket cradled in your fingers. You brush over the delicate silver chain, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the reflection in your goblet. He has not moved, standing by the fireplace, staring into the crackling flames as if they speak of something hypnotising.

You wonder, idly, why he has even bothered to come here. Surely…

"They think you did," Malfoy counters, and a small, nasty smile curls at your mouth. You straighten, tucking the locket into one of your many – hidden – pockets.

"They do," you agree. "The Aurors think 'I' have done many things – I assure you, I did not waste my breath on that mudblood. I was away the night she was murdered, anyhow."

"You know that is only a cause for suspicion," Malfoy hisses, still not turning. He crosses his arms jerkily over his chest, tilting his chin so that he is staring at the mantel rather than the fireplace now. He studies your ornaments and minimal decoration as if he hasn't seen it all before; as if he doesn't visit your study often enough to know that one of the items is missing.

He says nothing about this.

"Is it?" you ask pleasantly.

There is a pause, and then he speaks softly, as if he is afraid you will startle and leave: "Where were you, Riddle?"

Your anger is quick, sharp and resentful. "How _dare_ you question me, Abraxas? Are we so far gone that one unidentified mudblood is enough to have you turn on me?" Then, in the silkiest voice you can manage, "If you _must_ know, I was meeting with a new benefactor when the murder occurred."

Malfoy won't back down. You're just glad he hasn't caught the lie in your voice.

He turns sharply on the heel of his boot, stalking forwards, but not daring to touch you. He leans in close instead, baring his teeth. "And this _benefactor_ is where you got that locket from, is it?"

You merely appraise him for a long moment, a slow, knowing smile crossing your mouth. You grip the lapel of his robes, ignoring his start and dragging your hand up his body. He stares at you, challenging you, and you knot your hand in his hair, dragging him so your lips aren't an inch apart. You cup and draw the locket out of your robes with your free hand, pushing it into the one he had raised to push you away.

"You mean this?"

He flinches on contact, to your curiosity. "What is this?" he breathes, eyes wide.

You don't dare tell him of your Plan. "My alibi," you say instead, then think better of taking it back, a sudden idea rooting itself in your mind. You curl his fingers around the locket, then bring his hand to your lips, kissing where his fingers clench over the Horcrux.

He raises his eyes slowly, pale. "Riddle…what have you done…?"

You shake your head, pressing a misleadingly gentle kiss to his upturned lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-SevenEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Whodunit Elimination Competition! <strong>Character: Tom M. Riddle / Prompt: Write about your character being forced to lie to cover something up that they did not do.

**Favourite Characters Competition!** Tom M. Riddle & Abraxas Malfoy


	58. February - 58 - Control

**Day Fifty-Eight – "Control"**

* * *

><p>Sirius didn't sleep, the night before he and James were due to the share their progress on their – <em>project<em>. He lay awake, excited and worried; apprehensive. Had James gotten further than than him? Had he gotten further than than James? How would it affect them, as friends and partners in the project?

Morning came slowly. Sirius dragged himself from his bed and went to shower and dress for the day, briefly checking on Remus before going down for an early breakfast. He ate little, mostly just pushing his eggs around his plate. When James joined him, also uncharacteristically early, his anxiety grew tenfold.

Eventually, they snuck away from the castle, some snacks, books and their wands on hand. They hid on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, setting up their little camp-site silently. Neither wanted to admit how nervous they were.

"How is Remus?" James asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence. "He didn't really talk to me or Pete after…you know."

"Yeah, he's fine," Sirius said, somewhat grateful to him for getting them talking. "This time was difficult… He'll be alright for classes on Monday – or so he says. He could be half-dead and still insist of that book nonsense…"

James laughed. "Yeah, he's funny like that. Don't really see the appeal, myself."

Sirius snorted. "Believe me, we know. _Really_."

"Git!" was the half-indignant, half-amused reply. They sank down across from each other, taking off their socks and shoes and putting them aside, wiggling their toes in the somewhat nippy breeze.

They avoided looking at each other, that awkward silence creeping back. Sirius got out one of his books to distract himself, tapping the cover incessantly. He was too nervous to consider how strange he was acting.

It was James who broke the silence, again.

"I guess we should start, yeah?" His voice was rough, as if he were speaking from the back of his throat.

"Yeah…" Sirius huffed a sigh, cracking a grin. "You first."

James rolled his eyes, but said and did nothing more. A moment past and then he suddenly lurched onto his knees, looking determined.

"Let's do it together," he suggested. "You have your form, right?"

Sirius scowled. "Yes, obviously."

"Don't look at me like that, I'm just checking! Anyway, together…on three." Then, awkwardly, "I suppose we should take our clothes off."

Sirius pursed his lips, humour quickly sneaking onto his expression. "Oh, Jamie, I never knew you felt that way ab—!"

"SHUT UP, YOU TOERAG! You know what I meant!"

"Fuck, don't be so loud!" Sirius snickered. "No need to be so defensive. You hiding something, Jamie?"

"I really hate you sometimes."

Sirius shrugged. "That's okay, Remy loves me."

There was a pause.

"You really do love him, yeah?" James asked quietly.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't," was the equally quiet reply.

"No, I suppose not…alright. Let's do this. Get on your knees and take off your—oh for—_not like that, Sirius_!"

"I-I can't h-help it!"

James scowled, sucking his teeth as his best friend shook with silent laughter, actually wiping a tear from his eye. He knew they both needed to relax, so didn't reach around to smack him upside the head like he would have at any other time.

"It's j-just, you're _so_ b-bloody sta-_straight_, it's e-even fa-fun_-funnier_!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" James demanded, offended.

Sirius blew out a lungful of air, shedding his last few giggles. Swinging up onto his knees, he chuckled once more before starting to remove his robes and shirt. As a second thought, he cast a quick few charms to keep them isolated.

"_Sirius_!"

"Let's get cracking!" was the bright response.

James huffed and started removing his clothing too, tossing it into a pile beside his shoes. They had seen each other plenty of times in the Change-Room after a match or practice, but it was still incredibly awkward. They both averted their eyes, allowing the other the little privacy they could offer.

Setting down their wands, they bent over so they were on their hands and knees and closed their eyes immediately, not wanting to risk a peek. Touching their wands, they willed themselves to change.

Sirius' eyes snapped open, body lurching forward and falling to the ground, luckily missing his wand. He scrabbled uselessly for balance, shaking his head as sounds he couldn't hope to identify hit him like a tidal-wave. His thoughts dulled, but his emotions heightened.

Finally able to stand properly, he turned sharply as the scent of another animal caught his attention. He backed up, suddenly afraid of the much larger animal – but then the animal was lying down, limbs sprawled in a funny way. The animal looked confused, snorting huffily when it caught sight of him.

Then, Sirius found himself changing back, as if his magic was an elastic band that had snapped back into place. He panted heavily as his bones reset, fur smoothing back into skin and claws sinking back into regular, bit-to-the-bed nails. James snapped back a moment later and they stared incredulously at each other before grinning triumphantly in unison.

"That didn't work last time!" they said together, then paused and shook their heads, amused. Slowly, somewhat stiff and pained, they sat back up and quickly donned their outer-robes – just for that minute, until they could catch their breath.

"Remus will be so proud," Sirius whispered, practically glowing.

"You're one mangy mutt," James said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up! At least I'm no _fawn_. Who's the queer one now, huh?"

James snorted. "Whatever, mate." Then, somewhat dazed, "I can't believe we actually did it… Sirius, we have to be some really—!"

"Talented wizards? Yes, I'd have to say so, myself. Looks as if you have found your knack, boys."

"MCGONAGALL!"

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-EightEnd**

* * *

><p><em>They. Touched. Their. Wands. ;)<em>

Team: A

Position: Lieutenant

Secondary Character: James Potter

Specific Plot: Discovering their magical talent


	59. February - 59 - Portkey

**Day Fifty-Nine – "Portkey"**

* * *

><p>You land in the bedroom, your arms around him, his head resting on your shoulder. You back him up until you're both sprawling across the bed, your nose quickly moving to bury itself in his neck. He's excited, you can feel it, his body practically thrumming.<p>

He was always the more adventurous; the thrill-seeker.

"We'll get caught," he says, and you can't help but think he sounds almost _hopeful_. "Arrested. They'll lock us up – _brand_ us."

"We're already branded," you whisper – not unhappily – and brush your lips over his collarbone. He knots a hand in your sweeping hair, a grin most likely stretching across his face.

But then it falters. "Rodo, they'll _separate_ us."

You feel his heart give a startled leap in his chest, and then he is curling his legs around your hips, crushing you to his identical form. He's panting suddenly, sweat gathering on his skin and seeping into your clothing.

He was always the needier one; more prone to jealousy and separation anxiety.

"I won't let them," you say, though you don't believe a word.

He clutches you silently, and suddenly neither of you feel much up to playing.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Fifty-NineEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Game of Life Challenge!<strong> Prompt: Arrest

**Amateur Divination Challenge!** Round 8 –** Q: **The place Remi wants to go to the most right now? **A**: Bed.


	60. March - Day 60 - Disaster

**Day Sixty – "Disaster"**

* * *

><p>Hermione hadn't known where it had all gone <em>so<em> wrong. She had thought herself alone, had finally found the time to relax and let go and just have some fun…

And then Harry took an arrow to the knee.

She hadn't noticed him creeping up behind her, determined to finally find out what she had been hiding from him and Ron since arriving at the Burrow for the holidays. She had only snuck out once before to indulge in her passion, but they had noticed her secretive attitude immediately and demanded to know what was going on.

She didn't dare tell them of her secret love of archery. They just wouldn't understand.

But now, kneeling beside Harry as his leg was tended to, she couldn't help but think she should have just told them in the first place.

"I'm so sorry!" she said for the millionth time. "I am _so sor_—!"

Harry silenced her with a kiss. Pulling back, he said slyly, "I didn't know you had an interest in…_handling arrows_, Mione."

Bill snorted his tea somewhere in the background, quickly mopping up the spillage. _If she handles 'arrows' as badly as she did today…_

_Poor sod. Doesn't know what he's getting himself into._

* * *

><p><strong>Day SixtyEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Payday Challenge!<strong> Harry/Hermione

**Game of Life Challenge!** Prompts: The Burrow; bright; arrow


	61. March - Day 61 - Mirror

**Day Sixty-One – "Mirror"**

* * *

><p><em>You look into the mirror, eyes widening at the sight that greets you. You spin on your heel, breath leaving your lungs in one quick gust of fear, but no matter how many times your eyes track over the hollow room, you cannot find any sign of having been followed.<em>

_Slowly, you turn back, chin trembling as you try to contain your fear. Two men stare back you, smiling in a puzzled sort of way, their expressions slowly dimming in something like disappointment. You look around once more, hair whipping across your cheeks, but the men do not move – not like they would if they were in the room with you._

_They are wispy, like ghosts, but there is something solid in their appearance and you can't shake off the feeling that someone is watching you. Perhaps it is them, with their shadowed and piercing eyes, respectively. They _compel_ you._

_Little by little, breath catching with every echoing footfall, you approach the mirror. You bite your lip, trying desperately to remember if you have ever read of such a thing._

_You know you haven't, as you watch them, eyes wide and lashes trembling. As you look deeper, searching the not-reflection, the image flickers and changes._

_The men are happy again and they clasp hands, fingers lacing with each other. They looked relaxed; content. The shorter of the duo laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and mouth stretching into a wicked grin; his taller, swotty counterpart merely smiling, though the expression is no less unsettling with his taut white scars. You can see something playful in their faces; something – _spirited_. _

_Something alive._

_You wonder if you have ever looked as happy as them._

_Your fingers are brushing the cool, watery reflection before you realise it, and you feel a deep-rooted tug as if the mirror is trying to drag you inside. You jerk back immediately watching in terror as a peachy splodge bursts from where you touched the mirror. It morphs and grows and you stumble backwards, but you cannot take your eyes off of the – _creature_ it becomes._

_You are staring at…yourself._

_Except it isn't _you_. It is a woman, young and pretty with soft brown curls and determined eyes. You notice, immediately, the strange pendant around her neck. She smiles at you, mouths something you do not catch and then turns to the men, spreading her arms as if to say, 'I'm back'._

_They stare at her with something like love in their eyes, you think, and if you could still see her face, you know she would be mirroring the expression. They reach out then with their free hands, gently pulling her in between them, before turning and walking away. A door hovers in the distant background, swinging open with the gentle silence that the mirror possesses. They don't look back._

_You realise something, dimly, as the reflection blurs and slowly slinks out of focus, bringing back your small, gently trembling figure. You drag shaky fingers through your bushy hair, watch your too-wide eyes._

_You want to be her._

_And maybe someday you can be. _

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-OneEnd**

* * *

><p>SiriusHermione/Remus for Liza and FF :D

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

-Ancient Runes Assignment 5: Write about anything that has to do with a character trying to Overcome/Desire/Achieve some big moment in their life. _Alternatively write about Hermione Granger_.


	62. March - Day 62 - Parents

**Day Sixty-Two – "Parents"**

* * *

><p>"There is little I can do," the Healer said stiffly, packing away his equipment. Lucius watched silently, expression drawn and eyes narrowed, suspiciously bright. He was still wearing his school robes, trailing sleeves hiding the white-knuckled hand clenching his wand.<p>

He didn't dare act – not when his Lord was standing at his shoulder, just _waiting_ to punish him for an ill thought-out attack. He stood stiff and still, fighting not to flinch under the icy gaze that flickered to him regularly. The Healer suddenly paused and drew his wand, and Lucius stepped forward automatically. Thin, steely fingers dug into his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat, heart shuddering in fright.

The Healer paid them no mind. After a moment of seemingly pointless wand-waving, he shrugged, to Lucius' fury, and continued packing up. He locked his medicine-bag and grabbed the handles, standing lean and tall.

"Mr. Riddle, Mr. Malfoy," the Healer said, shooting the latter an unimpressed look. He exited the room, an elf appearing to escort him to the nearest Floo. The door slid shut with a soft, echoing _click_.

His Lord walked smoothly around him then, trailing robes fluttering softly as he strode slowly, purposely, towards the ornate bed. Lucius watched, throat dry, as he loomed over his unconscious father. He reached out a thin, ghostly hand, but didn't touch flushed skin or limp pale hair.

"Leave us," Voldemort said simply; coldly.

Lucius didn't argue. His Lord was the one keeping his father alive…

He would do anything he asked.

* * *

><p>He lay awake that night, staring at the canopy on his bed and listening to the groans and creaks of the Manor. Every now and then, a ghostly wail would intrude on the usual settling sounds.<p>

His mind wouldn't rest; not when his father was on the same floor, his heart weak and his lungs failing. He thought about magic, about every book he had ever read on the subject of medicine. He sat upright, an idea taking root in his mind.

His father had multiple books on remedies that he kept locked up. Dark, he said they were; unsuitable for someone as young as Lucius.

Lucius disagreed; he was_ twelve_.

Mind made up, he dragged what he could of his mussed hair into a tie and climbed from his bed, bare feet settling on the plush carpet that surrounded his bed. He couldn't find his slippers so he went barefoot, slipping his wand from his sleeve as he approached his door. He cast a soft Silencing charm and turned the knob, closing the door behind himself again.

He walked the long, shadowed halls to his father's office, keeping his eye on the lights and how they flickered. The portraits watched him, some silent, others grumbling about insolent children, but he ignored them altogether. Coming to the ornate door of the study, he lifted a hand.

And paused.

Spindly fingers ran up his spine, ears pricking as a strange sound curled around the corner. He stared blankly at the door, loosely-fisted hand hovering uselessly in the air.

_What…?_

And there it was again. He stepped back abruptly, looking form left to right under his lashes. _Had Great-Uncle Aemilius escaped from the dungeons again?_

Slowly, carefully, he crept towards the end of the hall. If the ghost had escaped then he would need to deal with it before his father found out, or he wrecked the Manor. Lucius drew his wand, but held it loosely between his fingers. Most likely Aemilius would see him and head back down himself, sulking. For all of his trouble-making, he knew Lucius had quite a few ghost-'friendly' hexes up his sleeve.

It was not a ghost waiting around the corner, however.

_Father!_ his mind screamed immediately and he wanted to rush to his side, but was rooted to the spot. His Lord was kneeling on the floor, his father's torso cradled in his arms. He was whispering something in his ear, idly fixing his sprawled limbs so that his arm wasn't splayed to the side, fingers spread wide as if he were trying to reach for the wand not inches away.

Lucius only then realised it was a corpse that the Dark Lord was speaking so tenderly to.

"—knew too much…you'll see…fine…bones…blood…"

Lucius felt as if his knees would give at any moment, sending him to the floor. His head was swimming, eyes wide, unseeing, voice lodged in his throat. His tongue was heavy and dry, teeth suddenly feeling too big for his mouth.

When his Lord raised his wand, pressing it to his father's temple, he grabbed the nearest object to keep himself from crying out – inadvertently knocking over an expensive vase.

Voldemort turned to him abruptly, dropping the corpse without a care, but did not appear surprised by his presence. No, he looked _pleased_.

Lucius thought, for a brief moment, that he had finally experienced true terror.

He stumbled backwards, heart thumping against his ribcage. He fumbled urgently with his wand, eyes snapping back and forth between his father's corpse and the man – the man he had trusted to protect them; to protect _him_.

He advanced slowly, as if he thought Lucius were a skittish animal rather than a terrified child. Lucius lifted his wand, a valiant curse on his lips, trembling as he realised, dimly, that there was absolutely _no_ spell that would save him. Not when he was up against the Dark Lord Voldemort.

No matter how familiar his Lord had been, stepping in to take the position of his father's companion when his mother left, he had never let them forget his power.

A smarting Disarming spell ripped his wand away from his hand, and Lucius merely stared at where it had been, gripped tightly in his fingers, before spinning on his heel and sprinting away, down the dark halls, feet slapping against the wooden floors.

_Leave, get away, go for help – leave, leave, **LEAVE!**_

A cool hand grabbed his collar, dragging him back with enough momentum that he flopped like a rag-doll, breath snatched away from his lungs.

"And _where_ do you think you are going?"

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-TwoEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Favourite Characters Challenge!<strong> Lucius Malfoy & Tom M. Riddle/Voldemort

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

Divination Assignment 5: Write about a father figure who has betrayed a person who depended on him, thus causing a great calamity.


	63. March - Day 63 - Ice

**Day Sixty-Three – "Ice"**

* * *

><p>The bedroom is dim, lit only by two flickering candles. The fireplace is empty and cold, the chandelier without flame. The darkness crawling in every corner, creeping under the furniture, unsettles you greatly at that time. You don't mention this.<p>

"I killed him."

Riddle pauses, hands perfectly still, teacup and pot held loosely between thin fingers. He looks at you, expressionless, though the candle throwing shadows on his handsome face suggests something macabre.

"How?" he asks finally, conversationally, and you almost startle. Almost. You think you know better of Riddle by now.

You say nothing for a long moment, merely staring at him as you lounge on your side, eyes half-mast and chin propped up on a loosely-curled fist; fingers splayed over silken sheets.

"A knife," you offer, when the silence drags on.

Riddle nods mildly, dropping a tea-bag into the water he has just prepared. He stirs himself rather than using a spell, and you know he is deep in thought. You watch him, folding your arm under your head. The sheet slips down to the jut of your naked hip.

Riddle has you under some sort of spell, you think idly. Your rage, _fury_, had been at bursting point when you Apparated to his newest safe-house, but it only took one look at him before a cold, shuddering calm dampened your angry thoughts. You don't remember much after that, except for him coaxing you to the bedroom, intent on using you in one of his studies.

You find you do not mind being a test-subject for _that_ particular branch of the Dark Arts, though you think he would have learned not to make excuses at all, after ten years.

"Tea?" Riddle asks politely, mockingly, as he swishes his wand and vanishes the pot and cutlery back to the kitchen. He does not return to bed, however – he approaches the stuffed bookshelf opposite you, blowing on his tea as he browses the fourth shelf.

Carelessly, he asks, "And what did your father do to deserve your wrath, Abraxas?"

"He disowned me," you reply simply, and you have the sudden thought that it is anything _but_ simple.

"Oh?" Riddle prompts, alert.

You do not tell him about the promised money, or the favour that had been called in to set you up with a place to do business from in France. Instead, teeth clenched, seething, you continue, "He believes – _believed_ – my brother is right about you – that you will bring shame to our family. That your cause is a lost one, while Dumbledore reigns the Wizengamot."

Riddle does not seem surprised. He is not pleased either. "Your brother is a fool."

"A fool," you agree, even as you wonder about the edge in Riddle's voice. You do not see the strange expression in his eyes, or the way his hand tightens around his teacup.

"Don't fret, Abraxas," he says then, in that smooth, appealing little way of his that had charmed you the very first time. "You have already completed the hard part: getting rid of your father. All we need to do now is take care of your foolish brother…"

* * *

><p>You wish, not so many years later, staring into Riddle's shuttered eyes as he takes your life, that you had taken the money and started that little business in Versailles after all. You wish you had seen concern and not resentment in your brother's icy eyes as he watched Riddle string you along, the others always staring avidly; enviously. You wish you had seen the act for what it was, when your father tried to remove you from the country.<p>

Maybe then you could have seen your son into adulthood.

Maybe then you could have saved him from the same fate as Voldemort's slave.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-ThreeEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Favourite Characters Challenge!<strong> Tom M. Riddle/Voldemort & Abraxas Malfoy

**New Tri-Wizard Tournament Competition!** Stage Two: Write about an interaction between exactly two people.

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

Astronomy Assignment 5: Write a story that focuses on a bad or villainous character. _Alternatively, write about someone having a title or position taken away from them (as Pluto lost the title of planet.) _


	64. March - Day 64 - Smile

**Day Sixty-Four – "Smile"**

* * *

><p>You watch him silently, curiously, as he picks at his food. He doesn't eat much, you have come to realise – a few bites of potato here, a few crunchy vegetables there. It concerns you, your brows drawing together and eyes glittering with worry, but you know you cannot just walk over and demand he clean his plate, Prefect or no.<p>

That is how you know him, after all. You use your badge to check on him, feigning concerns about assignments or lost points or even if he was out after curfew. Regulus Black is a dark horse, the black-sheep of Hufflepuff House, you could say. He doesn't talk to anyone if he can help it, nor does he appear to have any friends. You know he struggles with interaction, preferring to skip it altogether if possible. Despite this, you can't help but think he is lonely.

And so you plan.

It is not a particularly good plan, you know, but it is a start and you cannot think of a more genuine approach, if there even is such a thing.

You ask him if he needs help with his homework.

Except…he says no.

And you can only walk away, somewhat dazed, missing the suspicious, slightly hopeful look he shoots you from beneath his fringe.

The boy really did have no grasp on social cues, after all.

* * *

><p>You have a better plan.<p>

"You want me to _what_?" Frank demands. "No, no, no, Alice! Have you _met_ Regulus Black? I am _not_ getting involved."

You frown at him, and there must be something in your expression worth considering because he pauses and gives you a _look_. A look that begs you to walk away and let him forget you asked in the first place.

He sighs then, and crosses his arms defensively. "And what the heck am I supposed to say?"

"Just tell the truth," you advise, and watch as he slinks back to where his Quidditch mates are hanging. You can tell when they realise what's going on because they turn as one to stare incredulously at you. Did you really want them to invite _Regulus Black_ to be on the House team?

You wave back happily.

Slowly, they agree. They're not as upset as you feared either, seeming to actually think about it and, seeing how good a flyer his brother is, they can't imagine he can be _that_ bad.

They hope, anyway. He _is_ the first Black ever to be sorted into Hufflepuff.

As you wanted, it is Frank who approaches him. It is the next day and the weather is nice – perfect for holding a mini try-out. You watch hopefully, your expression dimming somewhat in worry when Regulus looks as if he wants to bolt.

Frank is friendly, and Regulus looks surprised, but then he makes a rushed excuse and leaves.

You don't blame him for being skittish around other people, even as disappointment grips your heart. His own family didn't even want him.

* * *

><p>You have a new better plan.<p>

"Study group?" Regulus asks quietly, and you can see he is not the least impressed. You suppose you are just glad he is even speaking, and not grunting or merely staring at you until you walk away.

"Some of the younger ones have trouble with some subjects," you tell him, hands crossed over your stomach. "Frank has promised to help me organise a study group and since you're such a good student…well, I was wondering if you wouldn't like to help out, since you turned down being a Prefect."

He stares at you in that suspicious way of his, and you can only smile, perhaps a bit sadly.

You are the only person he willingly talks to – and you know that is only because as a Prefect, he should be on your good side. All you want is for him to put the little trust he allows you into someone else; anyone else. Frank or Jeremy or Celene. You don't want him to be so alone.

"I don't think that is a very good idea," he tells you, slowly backing away before heading up to the boys' dorm. You sigh, and run a hand through your hair.

_Back to the drawing board…_

* * *

><p>You don't have a plan this time – you haven't had time to put it into action.<p>

Regulus enters the Common Room, takes one look at you sitting by the fireplace, lost and desolate as your stare at your Potions' homework, and rolls his eyes. He approaches you with his usual hesitancy, but seems to grow more confident when you smile in welcome.

"Hi, Reg—"

"Do you need help with your homework?" he asks, almost in a rush.

You blink, then beam up at him, patting the spot next to you. "If you wouldn't mind! I'm really stuck on this assignment, but everyone is out watching the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

He nods and slowly sits down at your side, drawing his knees up so that yours don't brush. You pretend not to notice.

"What are you studying?" he asks tentatively, and you shuffle the book onto the floor so you can both see without going back and forth.

"It's this root – the same one we're doing in Herbology, see…"

Before you know it, you're both pouring over homework together, sitting in a companionable silence that is broken only by the crackling of the fire and a question either of you might have regarding Transfiguration theory or how many times to stir a particular potion.

You realise, later on, as you're watching him spoon an extra helping of stew onto his plate at supper, that the bloody git stole your plan. _And got it to work!_

You grin, hair flopping forward to hide your burning cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-FourEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>The Who, What, Where Competition! <strong>Regulus Black helped Alice Longbottom with her homework in the Hufflepuff common room.

**Role Reversal Challenge!** Regulus was disowned instead of Sirius.

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

Magical Objects & Their Uses Assignment 5: For this assignment, I would like you to write about a character who comes across as shy, _or struggles to make friends_. They may feel invisible within their society, because of their struggle to socialise with others.


	65. March - Day 65 - Soul

**Day Sixty-Five – "Soul"**

* * *

><p>You don't understand why it's happening – why there is so much screaming; crying. You are curled up in a ball in the cupboard under the stairs, your haven at times like these, wishing desperately for the chaos to stop.<p>

And then there is silence.

Your eyes snap open. Slowly, slowly you reach for the door, hoping to peek out and see if the coast is clear, if it was just a false alarm, but then there are footsteps. You snatch yourself away from the entrance, burrowing deeply into the darkness. You can't help counting your shuddering, thumping heartbeats, trying desperately to hold your breath.

The cracks in the door are suddenly covered, the minimal light creeping in to the cupboard abruptly taken away. You spy a rich material, something that must make up a very rich man's trousers.

That very rich man opens the cupboard, but it is not with a wand or his hands.

Crimson eyes peer into the cupboard, catching and stealing your trembling gaze immediately. "Harry Potter," the man whispers. His eyes flicker down, and you only then realise you have soiled yourself in fear.

You think, in a moment of disjointed feelings and thoughts, that it is alright, for once. Because you are staring into the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort, ruler of Britain – a _Wizard_.

And he is smiling back.

* * *

><p>You are dragged from the cupboard, your struggling futile. He is strong, stronger than you have ever thought he looked, and you know that when his wand digs into your side, there is nothing at all you can do. You go limp, feeling as if your heart is about to jump from your chest. At some point during the struggle, Voldemort cleaned your trousers.<p>

You can't understand why.

"_That_ is him?" a man says suddenly, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You are suddenly surrounded by men in cloaks and masks, contorted iron faces staring at you without remorse.

You have never seen a Death Eater up close before.

"Yes," Voldemort drawls, and you flinch at the edge in his voice. Your uncle always sounds like that before he sends you out to weed the garden, even though it's too hot and you've already done it. Even though there is danger of a raid.

"He is awfully – small," another man says, and you cannot help but think he is looking down his nose at you. He has a sharp, snotty accent.

"Muggles," someone else says, and the group murmur in agreement; disgusted.

"Enough," Voldemort says. The group shuts up immediately. "We must leave, before the Order arrive, which they undoubtedly will. Nott, Obliviate the muggles. Make them forget the boy even existed. Malfoy, take care of any onlookers. We cannot have them telling tales."

There was a chorused, "Yes, my Lord!" and then the group dissipated, two especially tall men staying at Voldemort's, and by extension, your side.

"Back to Hogwarts, my Lord?" one of the men ask in a gruff, irritable voice. You think, trembling, that he sounds exactly like the werewolves Dudley is always gushing over in his comics. The comics that are allowed to be sold, anyway. You're vaguely sure your uncle snuck them from a 'dealer'.

"You two, yes. Inform Headmaster Snape of our success. I will be in contact."

They leave, reluctantly, and you are suddenly alone, standing on the front lawn of Number Four Privet Drive with Voldemort holding on tightly to you, his arms crossed over your chest like iron chains.

You sob breathlessly as he suddenly spells you both away.

* * *

><p>You don't like the room you are forced into. It is dark, the furniture hard and uncomfortable. You settle in to the nearest corner, wrapping your arms around your knobby knees and hiding your face. You cry, silently. You know what happens to those that are taken by the Death Eaters.<p>

Everyone does.

Voldemort suddenly appears before you, and you scream. He yanks you from the floor; long, sharp fingers dipping into your shoulder as his other hand cups your face, forcing your jaw shut. You bite your tongue and flinch as blood fills your mouth.

He brushes away the small dribble that escapes your clenched lips.

"Don't be like that, Harry," he coos. The tone is strange, like a purr, and it is terrifying. Your vision blurs as tears spill over.

"I-I want to g-go home," you sob and he doesn't look anything but fascinated. As if your tears are a particularly good act.

"To those muggles?" He shakes his head. "Oh, no, no. That will not do! Wizards do not live with muggles, Harry."

You are stunned; disbelieving. "But…I'm not a wizard."

Voldemort smiles at you. He lifts you up easily so that you are almost at eye-level, but not quite. "Of course you are. You've done magic, have you not?"

You nod, numb. You aren't supposed to talk about that – about freakish things.

He grimaces, something in his eyes tightening. "Your mother may have been a mudblood, but you are still a wizard. A very good one, when I'm done with you."

Mudblood. It echoes through your mind, tainting every thought you had ever had about your parents. Your mother…a _mudblood_? You feel your heart pick up again, tears spilling afresh. The only thing worse than muggles are mudbloods.

Voldemort wipes away your tears. "Don't worry, Harry. We shall forgive you for being related to _it_. You are special; there is no way we could ever hold it against you."

You shake your head. "But I'm _not_ special!" Being special is wrong. It gets you killed.

Just like your parents.

"Oh, but you are," Voldemort purrs, and you can only watch, frozen, as he leans in and brushes cool lips to your forehead. To the raised scar that has troubled you for your entire life – even if that was only eight years and counting. You quake, but he does not comment.

Instead, he brushes your hair from your face and says in a tender, _terrifying_ voice, "I have a proposal for you, but first: what do you know about souls, Harry Potter?"

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-FiveEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Payday Challenge!<strong> Prompt: Harry/Voldemort

**Game of Life Challenge!** Prompt: Proposal

**New Tri-Wizard Tournament Competition!** Task: Write a fic with a genre of hurt/comfort or angst.

**Rubik's Cube Challenge!** Yellow; 21: Dystopian!AU


	66. March - Day 66 - Birth

**Day Sixty-Six – "Birth"**

* * *

><p>Pansy hadn't thought much of it when she went into training to become a Mediwitch, other than that it was a way to make money and pay off her debts. She studied hard and graduated with marks to be proud of, her initially suspicious mentor gladly referring her to a private hospital in the Magical sector of Edinburgh.<p>

She had gone to get away, and she thought she had done a particularly spectacular job at it. She hadn't treated anyone she knew and she got along well enough with her colleagues. She was – happy.

And then Lavender Brown ended up at her clinic, scarred and very much pregnant. If only things were as simple as delivering a baby…

* * *

><p>She tried not to stare, knowing she was failing horribly. But Brown said nothing, staring at the floor and cradling her distended belly as if it were something precious – Pansy knew it was; to her at least. She wasn't quite the maternal type, herself.<p>

"How many weeks, do you know?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even and disinterested. She wasn't supposed to be emotionally involved with her patients; _especially_ not the pregnant ones. Luckily, she had had few of those.

"I'm not here for a check-up," Brown said roughly.

Pansy frowned at her. "Are you in pain? Did you," she paused, then continued cautiously, "want to get an abortion?"

"No!"

Pansy just kept from flinching, quickly looking away from the – _feral_ look in Brown's eyes. "It is a standard question," she offered stiffly. "If you're not here for a check-up or – that, then what is it you made an appointment for, Miss Brown?"

"I think I'm in labour. I've been so since yesterday morning."

Pansy merely stared at her. Then, flatly, "Miss Brown, I don't have time for—"

"It's not a joke!" Brown said, and promptly burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling as choked sounds escaped her throat. She sucked in a sharp breath then and quickly cupped her stomach. Pansy saw it contract.

"Oh Merlin." She felt sick. She had only delivered two babies before in her career and she had had help from her boss – she knew for a fact her boss was out to lunch at that moment.

Brown supressed a wince and Pansy quickly gathered herself, moving to the door in one long stride and throwing it open. "Lukas! Get off your break – we have to deliver a baby!"

Her colleague's startled, "What?!" was drowned out by the door slamming shut again. Pansy swiped her wand from her sleeve and waved it at the bed in the corner, rolling it to the middle of the room. The bedding was replaced with a quick spell, the sharp smell of lemon and something clinical erupting in the air. Pansy helped Brown out of her chair, leading her to the bed as smoothly as she could, and as gently.

Lukas entered the room, taking one look at Brown before sighing loudly. "Oh, lovey. You should have come earlier!"

Pansy shot the older woman a nasty look. "Would you just get your equipment, please?" Lukas had specialised in pre and post-natal care before switching to gynaecology later in her life.

Lukas held up her hands defensively, tutting. She summoned one of the elves – Nincy – and briskly ordered her 'emergency package' as well as a multitude of potions Pansy didn't have in her office.

"Is there anyone we should notify?" Lukas asked, coming over to check Brown's heart and blood-pressure. She smiled at Brown, calming Pansy somewhat. She had had five children of her own – she was experienced, to say the least.

Brown merely shook her head, face flushed, scars pulled taut. Pansy briskly removed her worn trousers and underwear, nodding distractedly to Lukas when she helped replace the clothing with a stretchy gown. Brown cried out, back arching, and Pansy felt her scrabble for some kind of balance, catching her arm.

"Do you need to push?" she asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Brown shook her head urgently, but Pansy wasn't sure it was a 'no' so much as a 'shut the fuck up, I can't think right now'. They helped move her onto her side, and then the door was suddenly being rushed open, Nincy ushering another Healer inside.

"Mrs. Marie!" Pansy said, startled and somewhat relieved. She turned to Brown. "Mrs. Marie is an expert, she'll take ove—!"

"No!" Brown said, gripping her arm in a vice-grip. She looked desperate; lost. "Please, stay! I—I don't want…I don't want to be a-alone…"

Pansy had never been looked at so desperately before. No-one had ever wanted her to _stay_.

Mrs. Marie and Lukas weren't looking at them, when Pansy quickly checked. They were focused on Brown's baby, talking quietly to each other. Lukas exclaimed excitedly that the baby was crowning. Brown cried out loudly.

Pansy didn't have time to be unsure. She took Brown's hand from her arm, squeezing it with both of hers. She didn't look at Brown, keeping her eyes locked on the older Healers. "I'll stay," she said simply, clearing her throat when it came out a bit rough.

Five minutes later, they had a baby girl on their hands. Brown could barely stay awake, so they cleaned her and the baby as best as they could, applying salves and having her swallow some potions.

"Stay with Miss Brown," Lukas said, tucking the baby, unnamed as of that moment, into said woman's side. Brown merely stared wide-eyed at the child, as if she couldn't quite believe…well.

"I will have Renee come in later to check on the child. Parkinson, Miss Brown." Mrs. Marie nodded to them and left to tend to the other patients. Lukas stayed only a minute longer to check mother and daughter were all right for that moment.

Pansy nodded absently and pulled up a chair. "Go to sleep, Brown," she said tiredly. As if she were the one who had just given birth.

Brown turned that same wide-eyed look on her.

"I'll stay," Pansy said quietly, feeling her cheeks redden.

Lavender tucked her daughter to her breast and closed her eyes. Pansy doubted she went to sleep for a long time after that.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-SixEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts Oneshot Wars – Round 2! <strong>

Team: A

Position: Lieutenant

Secondary Character: Pansy Parkinson

Specific Plot: 1. Going through childbirth


	67. March - Day 67 - Herbology

**Day Sixty-Seven – "Herbology"**

* * *

><p>"Jealous, much?" Marlene rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look up at her friend. She knew Lily was sulking. "Smile, sunshine."<p>

"I can't believe him!" Lily hissed under her breath, digging out the root in her pot with more force than necessary. The root cried out and Marlene quickly shooed her away, rescuing the poor thing. Luckily the Herbology professor wasn't looking their way.

"It's been two months since you broke up," Marlene said bluntly. "Get the fuck over it."

Lily had heard that particular line far too much in the last week to really be offended. "You don't understand," she said instead. She sounded lost. "I really thought it was him…"

"No, you thought it could be him," her friend said, not offering any sympathy. "If you changed him a little, if you taught him how to behave."

"I didn't want to change—don't look at me like that! You weren't there!"

Marlene shook her head. As far as she was concerned, Sirius and Lily were as incompatible as – as Sirius and _Peter_!

Lily would get over the abrupt break-up eventually. Marlene had, when she had seen the way Sirius looked at Remus.

They never stood a chance between that kind of love.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-SevenEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Payday Game Challenge!<strong> Prompt: "Jealous, much?"

**Ludo Game Challenge!** Prompts: Sirius/Lily; Smile


	68. March - Day 68 - Wine

**Day Sixty-Eight – "Wine"**

* * *

><p>Draco was still up, when Harry arrived home. He was sitting in front of the fireplace, staring into the waning flames as he cradled a glass of – something. Red wine. Harry knew it had some fancy name, but he was too tired to care.<p>

"Hey," he said, shrugging out of his Auror robes and tossing them over the nearest sofa. Kreacher popped up, glaring at him and muttering to himself. He took the robes and left.

"You're late," Draco said coldly, not looking at him.

"I told you I would be," Harry replied, annoyed.

Draco said nothing, swirling the contents of his glass and sipping daintily. Harry rolled his eyes, about to head up for some well-deserved sleep when he noticed something.

Draco wasn't wearing his wedding ring.

"Draco…" he said slowly, heart clenching uncomfortably in his chest. "What's going on?"

He didn't have to elaborate. His husband of four years threw him a side-long look, expression tight. "I want a divorce, Harry. I can't take this anymore."

He couldn't believe this was happening. He stumbled forwards, diving for Draco's hand. "No, no, don't do this!"

But Draco shook his head. "No, I'm done. All I want is for this to be done."

Harry stared at the hands, closing his eyes briefly. "Is…is there someone else?"

There was a pause. "Yes."

Harry pulled away, yanking a hand through his hair. Great, so Draco had fallen out of love with him, straight into it with someone else. Story of his fucking life. First it was Ginny, then it was Daphne, and now Draco.

"Who is it?" he asked roughly. He had to know.

Draco looked as if he didn't want to tell him. But then he sighed and dropped his eyes. "I suppose you deserve to know…"

Harry watched, muddled, as Draco suddenly put down his glass and stood. Giving him a determined look, he stuck a hand in his robe pocket and retrieved a – shiny green apple?

Harry was so confused.

"This is Apple," Draco told him grimly. "We've…we've had an affair since Fourth Year. I tried to warn you when we married that my heart could never fully belong to you…but I really thought I had gotten over her. And then she came back into my life…Harry, there is no-one like her. She is the one who holds my heart."

Harry stared at him. "Draco, that is an apple. A fruit. You cannot be in love with a fruit. It'll go rotten in a few days!"

Draco's mouth tightened, eyes sparking with betrayal. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Draco—!"

"No! I told you, I'm done! I've already sent in the papers – Apple and I are buying a house of our own. I've removed all of my stuff from your bedroom." Draco paused, then shook his head determinedly. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry could only watch as Draco left, Apple cradled to his side.

A long moment past, and Harry heard the front door click shut distantly. He stared at the place Draco had been, mind slowly trying to piece over what had happened.

"He'll be back," he muttered to himself, stunned. "In approximately five to seven days…"

"Not if Masters Malfoy uses fresh-making magic!" Kreacher cackled from the shadows.

He hadn't thought of that. He ran to the door, but Draco had already gone. His hands flew to his hair, tugging uselessly at it. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

He had lost his husband…to an _apple_.

The guys at the pub would never let him live it down.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-EightEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Payday Game Challenge!<strong> Prompt: Falling out of love; "Done" by The Band Perry


	69. March - Day 69 - Close

**Day Sixty-Nine – "Close"**

* * *

><p>"Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."<p>

Remus stared at his phone as the line went dead, the question on the tip of his tongue fading. He rolled his eyes at Sirius' dramatics, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

He tossed his mobile to the foot of his bed, shrugging out of his work clothes and into a comfy jumper and worn trousers. It was Friday night; he figured he would be sitting in with a book. Of course his excitable best friend would insist on them going somewhere or doing something.

Things just hadn't been the same since James and Lily got married. They were suddenly alone most of the time, finding themselves on the outside of a new, happy marriage. Remus tried not to let it get to him, but as time went by… He could easily see them all drifting apart as they started their new lives as adults – or, really, James and Lily caught up. He and Sirius had been living in the real world for a long time.

Remus pressed a hand to his forehead, sucking in a deep breath. Guilt crushed his lungs, spreading to his heart and squeezing in a vice-grip. He knew it was judgemental; petulant…

But it was also the truth.

He shook his head, leaving his bedroom quickly, and the shadows that lingered there.

* * *

><p>Remus didn't know what he expected, when he walked down to the old bridge edging on the city. Sirius liked to call it theirs, a spot they had hung out at or used as a meeting point since primary school.<p>

Maybe he had hoped Sirius would be on time.

He stood in the cold, hands under his armpits as he shivered, scowling. It was dark, as it tended to be at midnight, and Remus wasn't sure he liked it out there very much when there wasn't weak sunlight filtering down and off the sludgy water under the rickety bridge. Maybe he was getting old? It hadn't been nearly as unsettling when he was fourteen.

A roaring engine broke the silence then, and he spun around just in time to blind himself in the headlights of a steadily approaching vehicle. He ducked his head, stumbling to the side as he tried to rub away the brightness.

There was the screech of tires on the pavement and then Sirius was calling out to him as the engine died, voice a mixture of concern and impatient excitement.

"Alright, Remus?"

"I think you fried my eyeballs," Remus moaned, blinking away the moisture that had collected in his eyes and squinting into the sudden darkness, having heard the headlights flick off.

Sirius' hands came down on his shoulders and he was yanked into a brief, back-slapping hug, before being spun around. "Yeah, yeah, you'll live. Now! What do you think?"

"…about what?" Remus was only half-joking. He could barely see ahead of himself, spots dancing before his eyes.

"_Remus_!" Sirius whined, then bound away. "Look here!"

Following his waving arms, Remus was finally able to focus on the thing Sirius was so excited about. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the thing that had nearly blinded him.

"Oh, your bike?" he said, surprised. He took a few steps forward, trying not to gape at the brand-new, shiny motorcycle. "I thought it was irreparable after the crash!" It had been quite a few years since then, too, if he remembered correctly.

"Have you been working on it this whole time?" he asked incredulously.

"Well…yeah," Sirius said, tugging on a lock of hair and smiling in a way that could only be described as self-conscious. "You know how important it was and – well, I found a guy who said he could help. It just took a while to make the money for the repairs…"

"You could have asked for a loan," Remus said, frowning slightly.

Sirius shot him a _look_. "Don't you even start, mate. You know how I feel about that, and anyway, who would I have asked? You have enough troubles – it's the truth, don't glare at me like that – and James…James would have made it no big deal. It _is_ a big deal though."

Remus nodded, understanding. They said nothing more about that, and both studied the bike for a moment as the awkwardness of it all faded. Finally, Sirius threw him a boyish, toothy smile.

"So, how's about we go for a ride, huh?"

"Sirius, you know I don't—!" Remus tried to protest, but was cut off as his best friend grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the bike.

"C'mon, Remus! It'll be an adventure!"

He sighed, and climbed on the back when Sirius swung his leg over and stared expectantly at him, grinning hugely. They didn't have helmets, something Remus abhorred, but there was nothing to be done about that. He wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist and peered over his shoulder.

"Alright, start her—"

The engine rumbled to life, thrumming under them. Remus held tighter automatically, grimacing. Sirius merely laughed and took off without warning, down the dark road and into the night.

The cold air bit into their skin, hair whipping backwards, clothes snapping against their bodies as they rode. Sirius kept up a loud chatter, somehow managing to make himself heard over the wind and the engine, and Remus listened intently. He was trying to keep his mind off the knot in his belly. He wasn't too fond of motorcycles, himself.

"Oi, you wanna head into the city?" Sirius suddenly yelled back to him. "We can take a ride around the backstreets!"

"Is that safe?" Remus shouted back.

His best friend only laughed, speeding up.

Remus hooked his arm around him tighter, burying his face in the worn leather of Sirius' jacket. _Oh God, I'm going to be sick…_

Sirius had been right though, he thought, as they were chased by angry bikers, forced to slow down for traffic, and nearly flattened by a lorry.

It certainly was an adventure.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Sixty-NineEnd**

* * *

><p><strong>Stratego!<strong> B2 – First Line: "Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!**

Arithmancy Assignment 6 / Task: This week I would like you to write a story about best friends embarking on an adventure. This can be as mundane or imaginative as you like.


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